


Symbiotic

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alpha Hannibal Lecter, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Will Graham, Case Fic, Demonic Possession, Demons, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Kidnapping, M/M, Omega Will Graham, Sexism, Sharing a Body, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Top Hannibal Lecter, Wendigo, Wendigo Hannibal Lecter, Wendigo Will Graham
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 06:37:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14868618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Happily married to a beta woman with a child, Will Graham is brought back into the field by Jack Crawford, for a case where several omegas are being slaughtered. When Will comes upon the killer, he is accidentally possessed by a wendigo: Hannibal Lecter. Always hungry for human flesh and a new game to play with his omega host, the alpha is sure to have fun with this possession, although he finds himself wanting more than just a game with Will.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SO i was arguing with myself a lot to see if i would 1) publish this fic and 2) make it abo or not
> 
> its a bit of a weird concept, with hannibal...sharing will's body. an alpha inside of an omega....and not in the fun way. although it will be that way for some while i do plan on giving hannibal some form of an outside appearance so its not always...weird...but i got this idea a while ago and through some working and reworking this is how it is now
> 
> it wasn't originally going to be ABO, but as i was writing it and reading some other fanfiction in the meantime...i just felt like i wanted to give the ABO universe a shot. it has some interesting as hell dynamics and world-building and when handled properly i think can be a great addition to the story so i hope....i handle it properly ajkljgdfkg
> 
> this will also be a case fic and a slow burn, i've never written one of those before and again. i wanted to give it a shot. break out of my comfort zone a bit, haha.
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy this, if you do please leave me a comment since im still not like 100% sure that anyone actually will enjoy it since its such a whack ass idea, otherwise i'll probably just return to my crack fics.
> 
> not beta'd. any errors are my own, criticism is welcome.

Two years had past since the incident between Will Graham and Abel Gideon, leaving the FBI profiler with a gut wound and a huge slew of metal health issues – the latter was not exactly Gideon’s fault and more so his for pushing Will so hard. The beta was his best profiler on his team and even over the course of two years there has yet been anyone who has been able to match his closure rate.

That was his excuse for coming all the way out to the bottom of Florida, realizing just how far away Will Graham ran just to get away from Virginia. It was sunny and warm out here, a stark contrast to the gloomy and still cold spring that Virginia was currently hosting. He’s out of place in his FBI suit as Sugarloaf Key was a beach town. A series of islands that hosted beautiful beach homes and a plenty of people in summer wear. He wonders briefly if he should have invited Bella down here, but he was working…technically.

Jack wonders down the path towards the beach where Will Graham’s small beach home sits. From the distance, he can see Will and a young boy playing with the huge pack of dogs on the sandy shore. There’s a few new ones in the group and although he’s only seen Will’s dogs once or twice, the two years has seemed to have taken a few of Will’s older dogs with it. Will’s former pale skin up in Virginia was now replaced with an even toned tan, sporting pink beach shorts, and the glasses he once wore as a barrier to the world were removed.

He almost turns back around from where he came, unwilling to disturb Will’s peace. But the case of the missing girls, all omegas, has now turned onto its year mark in the FBI’s hands, with little to show for it.

Desperation is what pulls him down the beach path.

It’s when Will throws the stick back into the air for the dogs that he turns around with a huge smile on his face and spots Jack. The smile quickly falls away and Jack can see the old grumpy Will Graham resurface.

The boy keeps on playing in the distance as Will slowly walks over to Jack, a frown formed on his face and averting his gaze just as he used to in Quantico. “What are you doing here?” He demands, his voice tense.

“As much as I wish I could say it was for a vacation, I can tell by your face that you already know exactly why.”

Will rolls his eyes, a painful grimace growing on his face as he turns to look at the kid in the background, “then you’ll know my answer is no. There’s a reason why I didn’t pick up your phone calls and it’s not because I wanted you to come  _in person_.”

Jack crosses his arms and follows Will’s gaze. The boy looks like Will, and Jack had never inquired about his personal life: the beta could've had a child when he was working for him in Virginia, but he never asked. “Yours?”

The former FBI agent shakes his head, “no, but we’re getting on better terms. Refuses to call me ‘dad’ but I’m fine with it.”

“Where’s his father then?”

“Dead.” Will turns to look over Jack, unsure if he should mention it, but he does: “cancer.”

That seems to get some semblance of humanity back in Jack’s face and the regret seems to surface. Will could read him like a book, Jack never tried to hide his emotions nor his brash personality. But looking him over he could see that he truly did regret coming out here to bother Will, two years had changed them both.

But yet, here he was, in Sugarloaf Key, asking for Will to come back.

“I’m not asking for you to come back, Will.”

Will scoffs, mirroring Jack’s stance unconsciously and crossing his arms as well, “then what are you doing out here?”

“I have some crime scene photos, reports, I just want you to look them over and tell me what you see. You don’t have to come back to Virginia, I don’t expect you to – not with a family out here now. But we’ve hit the year mark and there’s still no movement on this case.”

“That’s a slippery slope Jack, and you know it. You asked me just to look on Abel Gideon’s case and look where that left me.”

Jack opens his mouth to respond to that, but the kid is already wondering up to the two adults. Confusion on his face at the stranger. He joins Will’s side, “Will?”

“Yeah?” Will seems to relax, snapping into a completely different person as he turns to the kid. It was as if Jack and Will didn’t just have a tense argument, the way he switched to a father role in seconds.

“What are you two talkin’ about?”

Will smiles, placing his hand on the kids hair and ruffles it fondly, “work stuff. It’s fine. Take the dogs back home and wash up, dinner should be done soon.”

Wally nods and runs back towards their pack of dogs, corralling them up the sandy hill and away from Will and Jack.

It’s when the kid is a good distance away that Will approaches their conversation once more, his brows tense and the personality of the good-father disappearing as quickly as it appeared, “you can stay for dinner, but I want you out of here afterwards. I’m not looking, Jack.”

Molly was a beta, just like Will, Jack notices. She is beautiful and could see why Will had left his old life in Virginia behind for her. Someone like Molly was a bright and happy soul, and Will did not wish to contaminate her with his old life, his darkness, and the serial killers that he shared it with. “You have a beautiful home, Molly,” Jack says, enjoying the glass of wine that she had set out for them all. However, the fourth one at their table, Wally, had gotten a Capri Sun instead.

She smiles around her wine glass as she takes a sip, “thank you. Most of the décor is Will’s though.”

“Ah, I’ve noticed. A lot of fishing paintings…”

That gets a laugh out of her, “it is a bit much isn’t it?”

“Hey,” Will’s eyes narrow at her, but he smiles softly back and so does she. “I asked for permission for every single one and you said yes.”

She shrugs, “how am I to tell a grown man ‘no’ when he asks so nicely? The paintings are ugly but,” she takes his hand in hers and squeezes it, “I’ll put up with it for someone like you.”

Their relationship, compared to his and Bella’s, is still in the newlywed stage. The light heartedness, before the tide changes and the once new lovers become older and their relationship strained. Forces like cancer intrude. Jack feels as though he is the cancer as he sits there at their kitchen table, about to intrude on their lives with pictures of the girls murdered in a file in his suit jacket.

Will smiles, “ugly huh?” He laughs and stands up from the dinner table. “I’m gonna take the dogs out for a walk, I’ll be right back.”

“I wanna join!” Wally exclaims, joining Will as they click the leashes onto their collars. The loud click click clicks of the dog’s nails on the hardwood floor as they can hardly suppress their excitement. Will gives Jack a stern and silent look before he leaves, knowing exactly what he is about to do as he is left alone with his wife. But, better to get whatever scheme he has cooked up and out of the way so Jack will finally know for good that he will not be returning.

Once Will and Wally are out of the door, Jack pulls the file out. Molly’s smile falls when she spots it, “Will said you’d do something like this.” She opens the folder and looks upon the first set of images of the murdered girls. Some are fresh, some are old – old enough to look more like skeletons than once-alive flesh. A shudder runs over her body and closes it before she sees any more. “You want me to convince Will to go with you.”

“Twelve confirmed kills, over the span of six years, that we know of. Three of the girls were found this year alone, the first of the recent three is what led the FBI to taking the case.”

Molly blinks and looks away, desperately wishing that Will hadn’t left her alone with Jack. Her husband had told her of how Jack is relentless about getting what he wants, and that he will try and talk to her alone. They had both agreed to get it out of the way now, so that Jack wouldn’t intrude on their lives any longer after this night. “You have the entire FBI at your disposal, and yet you come all the way down to Florida just for Will?”

Jack nods, “you know what he can do.”

“I do,” her frown grows deeper, her face tense with apprehension. She remembers how she had first met Will: damaged, sick, it took him months to recover. “He’s better now and I’d be a fool to try and convince him to go back out there.”

“When I saw him down at the beach I almost turned back around,” Jack looks up at her, intense: “he’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. Almost a completely different person out here.”

She adjusts her self in her chair, unsettled. “Why didn’t you? Turn around?”

“Will had the highest closing rate in the FBI in decades. The way he can enter these killer’s minds, figure their motives, his profiles are almost always spot on. I need him for this,” he takes the folder back into his hands, but keeps it on the kitchen table, “he can prevent another omega from dying.”

Nervously, she bites her lip and taps her finger nails on the table, “I’ll talk to him. I can’t promise you anything.”

“You have my number?”

She huffs out a sarcastic laugh, “only number we have blocked in our cellphones, so yeah, we got it.”

Jack stands up then, giving her a respectful nod, “thank you for dinner.”

“You’re welcome,” she doesn’t bother to accompany him to the door. He can let himself out, since he had so rudely let himself in.

Will pulls out a pill bottle with a fake label for ‘Zoloft’ on the orange plastic, the contents of the bottle containing suppressants rather than medication to help for his depression and anxiety. After the first few months away with Molly, recovering in Florida, he hadn’t needed anti-depressants. But he had kept up the pretense, his status as a male omega was something that he didn’t wish for her to ever know. They were rare freaks of nature, and he wasn’t sure he could survive Molly finding out and looking at him different.

No, she was the one good thing in his life right now. He swallows the pill in the bathroom, placing the bottle back into its medicine cabinet as he drinks it down with a glass of water at their shared sink. Beside him, his wife brushes her teeth, wearing one of his old t-shirts as a nightshirt.

“The Jack situation handled?” He asks, pulling out his own tooth brush and running it under some water before squeezing out some toothpaste.

Molly spits and rinses with a nod, “I told him we’d talk about it and call him if you changed your mind. He left after that.”

With a toothbrush in his mouth there really wasn’t much he could say except an extremely mumbled: “he’s an asshole.”

His wife laughed at that and left their master bathroom, situating herself underneath the covers of their bed. It’s not long before Will joins her, pulling her weight against his as he scents her. Betas don’t have much of a scent and with the suppressants Will’s nose practically acted like a beta’s nose would as well. But she did have a lovely floral scent to her, courtesy of the shower soap she used.

He hums against her shoulder and smiles.

“What if you did go back?” Molly asks, breaking the mood that Will was finding himself in.

He groans and flops onto his back, letting his wife go with a sigh, “you’re not seriously considering it? Are you?”

“Aren’t you?” She retorts. “I know you well enough that this is gonna bug you if you don’t do something about it.”

Will rubs his eyes, shutting them tightly as he runs his fingers over his hair. “Yeah, that’s the problem, Molly. The whole empathy thing, that’s what I’m trying to  _work on_. Any asshole can manipulate me to feel anything they want me to feel, and right now Jack wants me to think ‘oh, what if that was my kid. What if that was Wally. Could I stay away then?’”

Bringing up Wally was a mistake as he could feel Molly shift in the bed. It was dark in their bedroom, but he could see the silhouette of her body. Even without seeing her expressions, he knew bringing her kid into this was a bad move. “Some of those omegas that were killed were barely at an age where they presented, Will. There was a god damn girl in those pictures that  _was_  Wally’s age.”

“I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t mean to…imply I wouldn’t do anything for Wally.”

“Did you look at the photos, Will?”

He shakes his head, “no. I didn’t look for that exact reason.”

Molly turns away from him then, the bed shifting under their shared weight as they both adjust. “I think you should do it, Will. And that’s not Jack talking.”

Will looks over to the back of his wife’s head. She didn’t have an empathy disorder when she had looked at those photos, and yet she was reacting this strongly to them. He tried to get some sleep, but for the first time in two years Jack Crawford had already brought back with him the nightmares that he had once thought dead.

“There’s no connection between any of the girls, except that they are young omegas,” Jack says, seated on his hotel bed. Will was sitting at the hotel table, looking the pictures over with a look of defeat on his face, “there are no signs of any sexual penetration, so the perp isn’t believed to be a pedophile. He's an alpha though, that much is clear.”

Molly was right about the girls being young, all except a few killed around the age an omega or alpha typically presents. One of them was Wally’s age, 12, with the highest peaking at 23. He keeps his gaze on the photographs before him as Jack continues to explain how the case wasn’t put together until years later, the several body mutilations that all appeared the same way was never connected until another kill arose in the same state and jurisdiction. After that, the case ended up in the hands of the FBI rather than local law enforcement.

He arranges the photos around and puts together what he can in his mind – a fresh crime scene would be better, but that would require going back out onto the field. He promised Molly he would look, and that was it. “He killed in the same place. I’m assuming most of your investigation started there.”

Jack nods, “he’s killed in the same state before, never the same jurisdiction. A veteran on the force recognized the same cut patterns.”

“Anything turn up from that?”

“I wouldn’t be here right now if it did. Sigils looked Satanic, but all the Satanist groups in the area turned up with nothing.”

He hums at that, filing the photographs and police reports back into the folder. Will looks over to the alpha who is still dressed in his night clothes. There was only one hotel near Lower Sugarloaf Key and Will hadn’t bothered to call. Quid pro quo.

“You at least enjoying yourself? They got a Tiki bar here,” Will murmurs.

Jack laughs at that, a short and rough one, but nonetheless he smiles. “If I was on vacation, then yes.”

“And why aren’t you?” His voice is serious when Will looks up at Jack, “Bella doesn’t have all the time in the world, and yet you’re down here bothering me on a case rather than enjoying the beach.”

“In a way I suppose we are the same, Will.”

Will scoffs at that, leaning back in his chair and crosses his arms. He highly doubts Jack would have said that if he knew he wasn’t actually a beta, but he humors him, “yeah? How so?”

“We’re married to our work first and foremost.”

“I left Jack. You won’t. Not even when your wife is slowly dying of cancer.”

Jack nudges forward, anger spreading across his facial features, “then help me find this guy so I can.”

“There will always be the next case, Jack.”

He nods, solemnly he takes in Will’s words and shrugs, “I suppose you're right then. I do need to take a vacation, be there for my wife. Help me solve this case Will, and I promise you that I’ll take Bella down here. And we’ll enjoy that Tiki bar.”

* * *

 

With a single packed bag, Will arrives in Dulles Airport. It hasn’t changed much in the two years he was out of the FBI’s hands, the airport an all too familiar location with all the flights he had been on to several different cases across the country.

By his side is Jack who carries his carry on luggage in his hand, and motions for Will to follow. Beverly Katz is there outside of the airport, waiting in a government issued black SUV. “Will, good to see you again!” She smiles as she turns around to face him as he buckles his seatbelt.

“You to,” Will responds, they were never quite friendly but they were good co-workers nonetheless.

Jack boards into the passenger seat beside Beverly and it’s straight to business with him: “the morgue.”

“You got it, boss,” Beverly replies, hitting the gas.

Soon they were on the state route 7, an all to familiar road as his old house in Wolf Trap was only minutes away. The thick foliage of trees and green grass seemed to be all too depressing compared to the salty-air and blue waters and beaches that surrounded his new home in Sugarloaf Key. Beverly merges onto the I-95 from the I-395, the 45 minute drive taking even longer than it had to take due to the afternoon traffic. Annoyed, Beverly honks the car at someone who had cut her off, Jack unphased as he was well used to Beverly’s driving style at this point. Will sighs as he opens the file and looks at what the FBI and the several local police had found.

The quicker he gets this solved the quicker he can return home.

There wasn’t much, the only DNA found in all the crime scenes belonged to the victims. The perp was careful, draining just enough blood from them to draw on the walls, but kept them alive for whatever purpose he needed for until the time was just right and he would plunge a large knife into their chests.

The pictures of the bodies were somewhat helpful for Will to recreate the scenes inside his own mind, trying to recreate the perp’s thinking and pathology. Some of the photos were dated from several years ago when the victim’s bodies were still relatively fresh and some dated as recently as a few months ago when their bodies were exhumed after the connections were found. The police reports however were complete garbage, some of the detectives just simply did not care to write a well-thought out report leaving out several needed details to recreate the murders. They reported the bare minimum and in a case like this: it wasn’t much.

Never did he thought he’d see the day when he’d enter Quantico once more. The alpha escorts Will down to get a temporary FBI ID to enter the marine base and the FBI training facility. And Beverly excuses herself to use the restroom as the two fill out the necessary paperwork. It’s all very…clinical, he thinks. Unreal, maybe. As if he was in a vivid dream where just enough details were right but there was still an unease layered underneath.

The unease grew when they finally reached the morgue and Beverly pulled back the cloth that covered a female omega’s dead corpse. “Christina Chaplin, age fifteen,” she announces.

“Her body was found in an abandoned house. Body was already in an early decomposition stage when a couple of meth heads that wanted to squat there found her,” Jack adds, watching as Will takes in the swollen flesh below him. “She’s our most recent victim, the other two have been buried already.”

The body has already begun to bloat, the young girl almost doubling in size – unrecognizable from when she was alive. Even with the stab wound to the heart that led to quicker decomposition in her chest cavity, the gas building up in her digestive system made her stomach distend out as if she just came out of a Thanksgiving dinner. Her neck bruised and swollen, as if something had choked the body as it swelled in its death. Will touches the post-mortem bruises. She wasn’t choked to death.

“Very old fashioned,” Beverly comments, taking out the plastic bag that holds the collar in question, “although cheap. Petco brand, perp bought it, not the parents. Actually, the mother threw up when they found out the perp did that to their daughter.”

Jack nods, “an alpha killing omegas isn’t unheard of. Although typically that sort of violence is reserved for male ones instead of female ones.”

That, Will was all to familiar with. There weren’t many male omegas around these days, the ones who had escaped death were quickly thrown into a lifestyle where they had to survive by exploiting their sex for money. He’s sure there are more male omegas out there, surviving off black-market suppressants reserved for female ones, just as he did for most of his life.

He quickly pushes the thought away, returning to the corpse below him. The sulhaemoglobin has turned her skin into a putrid green, black in some places. Her mouth and eyes were puffed from the blood-filled foam that had helped make her face look beyond recognizable from the photos that were in Will’s folder. Beverly and the two men take in short and quick breathes through their noses, but mostly they resort to breathing through their mouths – the stench of the decaying flesh penetrating deep.

Will picks up the young girl’s hand, examining the flesh discoloration. Even with the blood pooling at the bottom of her body and the discoloration of decomposition, he can see a pale circle on her ring finger.

Jack is silent as Will looks over the corpse, wondering what the profiler sees in the young girl’s death. Will’s glasses, once unused and forgotten in Sugarloaf Key, began to slip down and he pushes them back up. It seems to break whatever train of thought Will was on as he blinks and states: “she was wearing a ring.”

There is a rummage through the plastic bags that contain the contents of her clothes and belongings, “there was no ring at the crime scene. Perp either took it with him or she left it at home before she was kidnapped,” Beverly replies, looking over the plastic bag contents and reading what another lab tech had wrote on them. “I have her clothes though, if you’re curious? Not much else was on her body.”

Will shakes his head, “I’d like to talk to the parents.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll get in contact with them.”

Outside of the morgue, Jack hands him a plastic card for a nearby hotel and smiles softly at the profile, “thank you for doing this, Will.”

Awkwardly, Will nods, and takes the key and looks it over. He’s never had to stay in a hotel up here, always having a house to return to – and briefly he thinks about making the trip out to Wolf Trap just to see if the area has changed any. “Call me when you have a meeting set up with the parents.”

“Of course,” Jack replies. He watches as Will walks away, back towards the elevator and eventually disappearing.

Beverly appears by his side, “he looks good. Still awkward as hell though. Where was he at?”

“Down in the Florida Keys.”

“Ah,” she replies, “dragged him out from the sun and surf for dead bodies and cloudy weather.”

Annoyed, Jack cuts her a glance, “get Jimmy and Brian on this, and see if any of the other girls were missing rings.”

Near Chopawamsic Creek, he was dropped off a fairly nice hotel. The red brick building seemed to match the others around it, a very dull military dorm room look to it. He settles into his hotel room, digging through his carry-on bag to find his suppressant pills still there. Will plops on in his mouth and swallows it with a swig of water. Flopping backwards onto the single king size bed, he exhales and stares at the blank ceiling.

His fingers linger onto his cellphone, wanting to call his wife but that would only make his mood sour even more. Instead, he digs into his work, spreading the photographs and reports across the hotel floor and organizes them to try and recreate the killer as much as he could.

The FBI was so focused on the repeat kill that led them to this case that they didn’t look into his early kills too deeply. Sure, they did their routine on them, questioned the family, but there was something about the first kill that was found years ago by a cop in Ohio that kept springing to Will’s mind. He keeps staring at the autopsy photos, the crime scene photos of the abandoned house she was found in. For six years her body had spent decaying underground, there wasn’t much to see with the pictures of her exhumed corpse. The older pictures however, seemed to tell a lot.

There was a faint tan line on her finger where a ring would be as well. None of the other girls seemed to have a tan line, except the first and the recent murder. It must have been overlooked, after all it wasn’t out of the ordinary for a young girl to wear jewelry.

In his pocket, his phone chirps. He swipes the lock and reads the text message Beverly sent: interview with the parents tomorrow morning. An address included.

Will had only packed enough clothes to last at most a week, and he didn’t intend to use the laundromat. He will leave then, solved or unsolved. Sleep comes easily to him, and he is well-rested when he wakes up the following morning.

Bright and early, Will refocuses on the crime scene photos below. He lets the pendulum swing in his mind, letting his imagination mingle with the display of evidence spread before him. The house inside his mind is incomplete, only the living room where the body was found was photographed, everything beyond was nothing more than the blackness of his mind.

The early signs of decay sweeps away with the swing of the pendulum, and as it falls back the other way, the girl is once again alive. Tied to a chair and drugged to keep plaint and week.  _I keep them alive for their blood_ , thinks Will as he recreates the killer’s thoughts as he walks through his ritual. It’s his fingers, covered in latex gloves that trail over the tube that pumps the girl’s blood into a bucket. No finger prints will be found.

_The ritual must be written in the blood of a young virgin,_  his mind supplies as Will begins to copy the pattern of sigils on the floor and along the walls, just how it appeared in the photographs.

When that is complete, he rests the pliant girl’s body into the middle of the sigil on the ground – careful not to step in the drying blood as Will takes out a blade: ceremonial and ancient – and thrusts it into her clothed chest.

It does not take long for the girl to slip away, and Will watches as the blood seeps and surrounds the girl’s body. Like a macabre snow angel, it spreads and joins the drying blood of the sigil surrounding her.

_And just like the others, the ritual does not work._

“The ritual is changing every time,” Will says out loud, snapping out of his imagination and turning his attention to the other photographs of the crime scene. The drawings of blood on the walls are all different, he’s changing them every time because the previous combination hadn’t worked.

Will grabs his cellphone and almost clicks on Jack’s name when there is a knock at his hotel door. He stills, looking at all the photographs below him, and quickly piles them back into their folder, “yeah one second.”

He tidies it all up quickly, unlatches the lock and looks outside: Alana Bloom.

“Alana,” Will says, dumbfounded.

An alpha and a former colleague and friend, despite not keeping in contact with her, he had much respect for her. “Come on in.”

She smiles and nods, the click of her high heels softened by the hotel carpet underneath, “Jack told me you came back.”

He scratches his ear, unsure of where to begin with his sudden disappearance from Virginia, not even giving her a good bye or any response with her e-mails and phone calls. “I’m only staying for a week, got the return plane ticket and everything.”

“Jack will have to fight to keep you then, I don’t doubt that he’ll pay the airplane cancelation costs just to keep you here.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt that either,” Will laughs, “I’m uh…sorry I didn’t keep in contact with you. It was easier just having a clean break from it all.”

Alana nods, “I get it. You were in a bad place after Gideon and Hobbs.” She sits at the hotel table’s chair and looks around, spotting the folder. “That the file?”

Will hands it to her, and gets settled on his bed, letting his hands rest on his knees.

She doesn’t look at it, simply just places it at the table before her and returns her attention back to Will, “you look really good. Tan.”

“Florida for you.”

“And your girlfriend?” Alana had only met Molly once, and Will doubts that Alana even remembers her name.

“Married now," he briefly shows her the simple wedding band around his finger.

There is a large pause between the two, an awkward silence that grows between once close friends that simply just aren’t anymore. That’s when Will realizes that Alana is alone in a room with him for the first time since they became acquainted, “usually when we’re in a room together, there’s always a third party there to chaperone.”

“Ah, you noticed that. Of course you did,” Alana laughs, throwing her head back with a slight blush to her cheek, “I’m going to assume you’ve noticed other things as well.”

“I’m aware of your old crush on me, yes.”

She shakes her head, the smile still soft on her face, “you were always very observant. Made you great on your job.”

“A curse and a tool, I suppose,” Will replies. He takes out his cellphone and shows the picture of Molly and Wally to her, “we got married soon after I recovered from that gut wound. What about you?”

“A partner here and there, nothing serious.”

The pause is shorter this time as Will cuts to the chase as to why she’s here: “Jack send you, or did you just hear I was back in town and decided to make a friendly visit?”

“Former, sadly. After the whole…Gideon thing, Jack wanted me to watch you for the week that you’re here. Make sure nothing happens to you and you safely arrive back in Florida in one piece.”

Will blinks, Jack had never been this considerate two years ago. Time can change people, just as it had with softening Alana’s crush to the point that she no longer worried about being in the same room with him. “You’re on baby sitting duty.”

She laughs, “I’m on psychiatrist duty.” Alana jiggles her car keys in front of them, “I’ll be joining you today, Jack is disposed in court right now.”

The drive is rather long to the border between New Jersey and New York, mostly filled with silence or stilted conversation. But they soon arrive at their destination: a beautiful home in the suburbs of New York. Alana parks her car outside of the victim’s parents’ drive way and steps out. Will keeping closer behind her.

The Chaplins were a traditional alpha and omega couple, with three other children besides the late Christina, as Will looks at their family photos displayed on the neutral painted walls. Alana asks a few intro questions, softening the grief stricken parents into getting ready for Will’s questioning.

However, Will didn’t have much to ask the parents except for the ring. “Did you daughter have a favorite ring? Something she always wore on her ring finger?” He says suddenly, turning around from the photos to stare at the two.

The mother thinks for a moment, “yes. Her purity ring? It wasn’t her favorite but she wore it all the time, to make us happy.”

“Is it here?”

“Oh, I’m not sure,” the mother replies, wondering why the cops would worry about her daughter’s ring, “that doesn’t have anything to do with my daughter’s death? Does it?”

Will’s not sure how to respond, it’s only a hunch he’s following and none of the other FBI agents either noticed or seem to care about it. “I’d like to look at her room, may I look?”

She looks up to her alpha for a moment, a shared glanced between a mated couple and permission from her husband for the beta to look at their daughter’s private room, and then she nods.

Alana stays behind with the father, letting Will follow the mother upstairs.

He opens the door and finds a typical teenage girl’s room inside. A cork board with photographs of her friends, a calendar with all sorts of dates for when homework and tests were due. On the far end near the white cotton curtains surrounding a large window, sat her desk. A macbook, textbooks, her backpack and clothes all thrown about the desk as a girl coming home from school usually would. Beside the laptop there was a jewelry box.

Will opens it with gloves, briefly the thought runs through his mind of his gloved fingers trailing the plastic tubing where blood pumped through and into a bucket, but he quickly shoves that out of his head as he looks around for a purity ring.

“It will look like a wedding band, but without any diamonds or jewels on it,” the mother says, sitting on her dead daughter’s bed as she keeps an eye on the agent. “Silver and it should have ‘PS 51:10’ engraved inside.”

He continues to look for it, but there is no such ring in the jewelry box. Only cheap earrings, bracelets, and rings that one would buy at a shopping outlet in a mall. Will closes it shut and looks around the room, taking in the teenage pop band posters and young adult novels situated on a small bookshelf.

Running his fingers through the spines of the books, he rests his finger on one. “Christina keep a diary?”

Her mother shakes her head, “not that I knew of. If it is, you’re not taking it.”

He takes it out of the shelf and looks it over, if it was a diary then it should’ve been taken away as evidence when the FBI first came through the Chaplin’s home. The mother walks over and looks at what he is referring to: an older moleskin book. Will opens it up and looks over the first page, completely blank except for an address sloppily written in a corner in what looks like a make-up pencil.

His mind wonders, remembering how Molly would do that. Write on some scrap of paper with the only thing available within reach, scrawling down some info for later in a black pencil she’d later apply to her eyes.  

“Is it a diary?” The mother asks, breaking Will out of his thoughts.

Will runs through the other pages: all of them blank. “No, but,” he takes out his camera and takes a photo of the address for later. “We’ll have to keep this for evidence.”

“What has you so concerned about the ring?” Alana asks, as she drives Will towards a car-rental location.

A shrug is his only response, a gut-feeling is not much to go off but he’s found killers for less. The rest of the car ride is occupied with music, both not feeling up to the task of forcing conversation. For that, Will is grateful, as much as he enjoys Alana’s presence, she is a huge reminder of what could have been. Alana did have feelings for him, even though she thinks that he is a beta, she was interested. But something had kept her back from pursuing him. Whatever it was, Will felt that it had something to do with his empathy disorder, he had always gotten a feeling of pity from her.

Too unstable for a relationship.

“You sure?” Alana asks, “I can call out of work tomorrow, it’s not a big deal.”

Will nods, “I don’t need a chaperone,” he replies simply as he closes the car door behind him. "Go back home, get some rest."

“I’ll see you later then!” Alana replies, driving away as she leaves him at a car-rental.

With a cheap economy class car, Will stays in the New York area bordering New Jersey and drives to the address that Christina had written down. It’s a nightclub, he finds, and its not too much of a shock that a teenager would wonder out here – desperate to feel normal, abandoning her parents’ wishes to keep true to her purity ring, and explore. He texts the address to Jack just in case anything happens, but the lead seemed to be a dead end from here.

Still, he’s out here and wouldn’t hurt to explore. The bouncer outside gives him a once over, well aware the man was pushing into his late 30s and early 40s. Still, he has to ask: “ID?”

Will shows him his drivers license and the bouncer stamps his hand, but Will makes no move into the nightclub. Instead, his attention turns to pulling out the photo of Christina on his cellphone. “You seen this girl around here?”

The bouncer looks the photo over, “I’ve seen a lot of girls that look like that out here man.” He looks Will over, not impressed, “and unless you’re the cops or something, I’m not answering.”

Will pulls out his temporary FBI badge and flashes it, “or something.” He folds it back up once the bouncer seemed to get that he was law enforcement. “She’d be an omega, underaged.”

Recognition grows on his face then, “yeah, I remember her. I turned her away.”

“Look,” Will lets on his good cop voice, disarming the tense bouncer, “I’m not here for anything like that. If you let her in, you and your establishment will not be in any trouble. I just need to know her whereabouts.”

He crosses his arms, “like I said, I turned her away. When you’ve been on this job as long as I have, you can start to tell the teenaged girls apart from the of-aged ones.”

“Do you know why she came here?”

“Didn’t ask, she came alone and I turned her away. What she did before and after that, I don’t know.”

Will nods, believing him, and thanks him for his time. As he climbs into his rental car and places his hand on the wheel does he then notice the stamp on his hand: the same symbol as the sigils on the floor of the crime scenes.

* * *

 

Philadelphia calls him next, as Robert Sheen watches the unconscious omega balled up in the trunk of his sedan. His church had brought him to Harrisburg, to help spread the word of his Lord. And he did that well, very well, they paid for his travels, his food, and his home. He was very loyal to his God.

Except his God had betrayed him early in his life, as he was supposed to be an alpha, not a beta. Not something that is absolutely nothing. No, he has resorted the Lord’s adversary to get what he wants.

The omega before him was only a means to an end, a ritual that called for the blood of a virgin omega. Not many omegas these days were virgins however, and he had to resort to killing children to become the alpha he was meant to be. However, there wasn’t a lot of correct information – even as he scoured around, talking with Satanist groups, gleaming any spells that he could online and in old books.

Nothing had worked, but his faith remained strong. For his beloved omega, he will become an alpha and finally mate and claim her. And if it took a deal with a demon to acquire that – he would.

The girl before him stirs, gasping out in stiff pain of being bounded and trapped in a car’s trunk. He pulls her out, half carrying the slowly-awakening omega into the abandoned house. He tries her to a chair that he picked up for cash at a local thrift store, latches a collar meant for dogs onto her throat, and preps the needle and tubing into the bucket beside her to collect her blood.

It’s once the omega wakes up, focusing her eyes on her kidnapper that she stills in fright. "Please...don't hurt me," she chokes out, her voice dry and weak. He turns to face her, noticing that she is about to scream - they all try - and slips a needle into her wrist and watches as her mouth slacks and looses consciousness once again with the drugs pumping through her veins.

He then replaces the needle with another, readying the bucket for her blood, and pulls out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. Written on the paper is a new combination of sigils to write on the walls and he smiles as he looks upon them.

This one, he feels, is going to be the correct combination.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will meets Hannibal. Kinda.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when hannibal speaks through will, dialogue will be in italics. just so it doesn't get repetitive in the "he said" parts of the dialogue haha.
> 
> all inter-workings of this fictional church group is entirely fictional.
> 
> not beta'd. errors are my own. criticism is welcome.

Inside the bar, an omega bartender wearing nothing more than a bra and underwear motions for Will to follow her. When another girl passes by the hallway, Will realizes that the bra and underwear combo was their uniforms, and briefly wonders how much harassment the girls behind the bar get every night. He could feel it radiating off them, it’s uncomfortable but they have worked there for so long that they have become numb to the sexualized uniforms and the unwanted gazes. Resigned to the fact that they get more tips for more skin, desperate to find a different line of work while they pay for college.

“Matthew is busy right now, but he’ll be with you in a moment,” she tells him. Will notices then that the omega has a claiming bite on the side of her neck, and she quickly covers it with her long hair as she returns to work. More tips if she appears unclaimed, Will supposes. He’s quickly left alone in the small hallway between the back office and the break room; the nightclub just beyond the shallow walls. The loud music thumping through them sets Will on the edge. This was never his type of scene.

A male bartender exits the break room and passes by, wearing a regular black t-shirt and slacks. The image of inequality between the genders combined with the nauseating remix of some pop song he’s heard Molly listen to on the radio made sitting there even more uncomfortable. He lets himself slip a bit, disassociating as he tries and wades into the stream in Wolf Trap, his old comfort.

It takes about ten minutes before the door is opened, breaking him out of his old coping mechanism, and an alpha in his 30s appears. His clothing style and haircut somehow blended the appearance of a business man and a goth that was let loose in a Hot Topic. A strange combination, but given the nightclub’s dark and moody atmosphere, it wasn’t complete out there.

“Detective Graham?”

Will stands up, taking out his temporary FBI badge and briefly flashes it to Matthew, “Special Agent.”

“Matthew Brown.” Matthew replies in acknowledgment, their handshake short and to the point, “is this something I need a lawyer for or?” He pulls out a chair for Will and then walks around his desk and sits down on his own.

Will takes his seat and briefly takes in the office. It is tiny, but clean. It’s a stark contrast to the gothic look its owner sports, appearing more like a clean-cut dentist office would look like than a nightclub owner. “No, I was wondering about the symbol for your stamps your nightclub uses?”

“Oh, weird question. I was expecting something from like, you know, TV shows.”

He smiles politely at Matthew, people always seemed to want to comment on the difference between real life police work and fictional. The joke ran old quickly in his time at the police department in New Orleans, “sometimes a tiny detail like this can break a case. Sometimes its utterly useless. I’m just here to cover every angle, so no you don’t need a lawyer. You’ll most likely never see me again to be frankly honest.”

“Ah,” Matthew scratches his chin, loosing a bit of his interest now that it wasn’t some sort of good cop bad cop routine, “it’s an ancient sigil, supposed to mean ‘enjoy life.’ You know? Living it up, taking what you can in the short time we’re here.”

He can tell that Matthew is putting him on, there’s more to the sigil’s meaning but he’s cleaning it up. Protecting the image of Satanists. “I’m well aware of its ties to Satanism.”

Matthew blinks for a moment and then moves his nervous fingers to the coffee cup beside him and begins to tap it. Considering. “We’re not like that, you know. Violent, evil. We get a bad rap. A lot of stereotypes.”

Will can tell that the man isn’t fond of having to go through the spiel about how Satanists really are over and over again, and he’s in no rush to have to hear it. And so, Will cuts him off before he can start: “Is it a well known sigil among Satanists?”

Matthew shakes his head, “no, not at all. It was in an old book I found, I thought it was cool and I used it as my club’s stamp entrance.” He considers for a moment, then: “it means to consume. Or ravage. Satiating your hunger.”

“Do you still have that book?” Will asks.

“Nah, don’t have it anymore.”

“Anyone I could talk to that does?”

Matthew leans back into his chair, annoyed, “some asshole stole it from me a few years ago. So if you want to talk to someone who does then you’re gonna have to dig up my old police report from 8 years ago. They never did anything with it and seeing that an FBI agent is here I’m guessing they should’ve.”

That grabs Will’s attention and he straights himself up on the chair, pulling himself forward, “what do you know about the thief?”

With Matthew’s business card and plenty of new info, Will settles into another hotel room just off the I-95 and takes out his laptop. Quickly, he types out an e-mail to Beverly and Jack about his findings and then takes out a bottle of whiskey from the paper bag that he had gotten from a drive-thru liquor store on the way back.

He pours himself two fingers, enough for a nightcap but not too much that he’ll be too far gone. That quickly gets thrown out of the window, however, and it's when he’s on his third glass that Will finally pulls out his cellphone and hits Molly’s contact button. Only the second day and he’s already missing his wife.

And they say bonds between omegas and alphas that are separated are worse, tenfold. He finds himself relieved that he’s with a beta, disguised as a beta, with no need for the hassle of dealing with alphas outside of his workplace - FBI or on the shores of Sugarloaf Key fixing boat motors.

“Hello?” Molly answers, her voice deep and raspy from being woken up at – shit. Will looks at the clock on his laptop. One AM.

“Shit, I woke you up.”

There is some shuffling on the other end, he can imagine her here now on this bed looking up at him with her tired puffy eyes, wearing one of his t-shirts from his police academy days. He smiles as she replies, “it’s okay. How are you doing up there?”

Will exhales, watching the whiskey in his glass swirl around as he gently rocks it, “making some progress, I think. I’m up near New Jersey right now. Can vaguely see New York City’s skyline from here during the day.”

“Oh yeah? Is it nice? If it’s too much of a bother don’t do it, but I'd love for you to get me a souvenir. Ones of those 'I Love NY' shirts?”

“A souvenir huh? Yeah, I’m heading out tomorrow morning and not back in the direction of New York City so the souvenir will have to wait,” he laughs. Desperately missing his wife. “How are you?”

She roughly laughs, stifling a yawn, “bit tired.” Will smiles. “Missing you a lot. Just a few more days though right?”

“Yeah, not letting Jack keep me up here longer than necessary. Figure I’ll help however I can and they can take it from there when I leave.”

“I’m glad you’re helping though. Would’ve ate away at your conscience if you didn’t, I know you too well.”

Will sets his glass down and closes his laptop. Then, he settles onto the motel’s bed, laying on top of the ugly paisley printed comforter. He needs to get some sleep himself, the drive back to Quantico was rather long and Beverly could always send him somewhere else come morning time. “Yeah…I’ll let you get back to bed. Good night.”

She hums, “keep me updated…and if you pass by anything cool get Wally and I something.”

“Of course. Love you, Molly.”

“Love you too, good night,” she replies. Will hangs up his cellphone, still imagining her by his side even though he is alone in a shitty motel.

He sets the phone down onto the night-stand and sits there on the bed for a moment longer. He then digs into his notes, looking them over for a second time even after sending a copy back to the Beverly and Jack. The stolen book didn’t have a title, but luckily Matthew Brown had a rather good memory and described the thief well enough even though it had happened eight years ago. A teenager at the time, but in his mid 20s now, with blonde hair and green eyes. Worked for a religious traveling group that went from school to school to talk about abstinence only ‘sex education’.

The same religious denomination that the Chaplins shared, as well as the first victim's family.

 

* * *

 

Early morning rises on the BAU, Beverly, Jimmy, and Brian all hanging about in their laboratory and going over evidence and work e-mails. “Can’t believe Will just strolls in and then two days later he already has a lead,” Jimmy says, looking over Beverly’s shoulder at the e-mail she is writing out to send back to Will.

“He’s good, why Jack wanted him back so badly.”

Brian takes notice and wheels his rolling chair out so he can look at the other two, “yeah but the dude is unstable as hell. You weren’t there for it, Jimmy. He spent two months in the looney bin after he killed Hobbs. And then Jack throws him back out into the wolves and boom, Gideon got him.”

Beverly rolls her eyes, “I’m just glad Jack seems to be holding back this time around. Will’s only staying for like five more days then he’s outta here.”

“Five days?” Jimmy laughs, “no way is he going to close a case in five days.”

“He closed the Hobbs case within a week, I doubt he’ll struggle much with this. Dude’s sharp, even with a two-year vacation he’s already on the trail again.”

Their conversation ceases when Jack strolls into their laboratory, his posture practically demanding an update even if he doesn’t have to say a word.

“Will sent me an update last night,” Beverly says, casually looking up from her computer screen and up to Jack.

“Something about a nightclub?” He sits down, a cup of coffee still in his hands. “Will still up there?” Brian and Jimmy pretend to go back to their designated jobs, even though Jack can tell that they are listening in on their conversation. Will was always a hot subject within the BAU, his abilities to empathize with serial killers and his closure rate made him one of top special agents in the FBI.

Beverly takes out a set of files and slides it toward her boss, “yeah. I sent some info to him this morning and he said he’ll be traveling to Pennsylvania next instead of returning down here.”

“I didn’t approve on that, Alana has her own work to do in Georgetown. She can’t be going over there with Will on such short notice.”

She snorts, “yeah, Will sent Alana home after they interviewed the Chaplins. So much for a baby sitter.” Then, she taps on the files, “apparently those rings Will was so concerned about were purity rings. Two of the victims were in the same religious denomination and bought the rings from the same company that made them.”

“And what is Will doing, going all the way out to Pennsylvania?”

“It’s some traveling circus or whatever, they go around to schools and do those assemblies you know? Teach about abstinence only relationships, show gross pictures of STDs to frighten kids out of sex, you know the dumb shit about no sex before bonding and all that. They sell those rings there and a bunch of other wack-ass religious stuff.”

Jack takes that in and reads over the files, “Will thinks the killer is part of this group?”

“Yup,” she replies, spreading the files across her desk until she lands on one that she needs. She pokes at it with her finger, smiling, “apparently this guy stole this Satanism book from the nightclub owner. Nightclub owner? Knew he worked for a company that did that so we got in contact with them. They sent the files on all their employees still working for them for the past eight years. Only two still there since 2010.”

One of the two was an omega.

And Robert Sheen watches her, entranced by her beauty. Dark skin and beautiful black curly hair that bounced with every step. It was a sign that she was meant to be his by how long the two have worked side by side with each other in their little traveling group, selling and presenting materials for their church – spreading the word of God. Of all the people to join and leave over the years Channy Becket stayed there beside him, trusting him, wanting to be with him. That much he knew, why else would she have stayed unmated at her age?

But fate was cruel, he could never truly mate with her if he wasn’t an alpha. Couldn’t leave a biting claim on her neck and truly  _own_  her. He would wait until the ritual was complete to finally begin to court her, there was no way she would ever be interested in a lowly beta when so many alphas were there at her disposal.

He watches as she hangs about the stage performers. Briefly she touches the arms of one of the alphas who will be going on stage at this crappy high school before the alpha has to pull away, the assembly about to start. Robert watches as the large overhead projector flicks on, reading: “Sex and Bonding” to all the laughing teenagers that began to fill the auditorium.

Over the course of eight years, he’s seen the presentation so many times and quickly looses interest as it begins.

Channy rejoins him however, sitting at their little merchandise booth that sells tacky religious items and overpriced purity rings.

Robert takes in her scent, desperately wishing he was an alpha so that he could properly scent her – he could only smell the deodorant and body spray she put on every day, fruity and sweet. And when the ritual was complete, the deal made with a demon, her scent would finally be mingled with his alpha sent. “Hey Channy,” he says to her, voice quiet as always.

“Hey,” she smiles so sweetly up at him, “how was your weekend Robby?”

He returns his smile, thinking about the girl who’s currently settled in the house. He’ll be able to collect more of her blood tonight. Everything was in perfect order to summon the demon who will help him become an alpha, “it was great. Saw a movie.”

“Oh? What movie?”

“Slasher flick.”

Her face twists up in disgust, “gosh, I hate those movies. I don’t know how you can watch them.”

Robert gently laughs, his omega was so kind and loving. He’d kill to protect her so that she will always remain so perfectly innocent, “kinda fun to watch on occasion, I guess. How was your weekend?”

He listens intently as she goes on about her weekend, hanging out with her friends and family. Yes, he’d kill for her, as he watches those plump red lips move as she speaks, her mouth almost always a permanent smile. Tomorrow the full moon will rise and everything will be done.

And she would be his.

 

* * *

 

Will stands in the breezeway of his third hotel room of this trip, a glass of whiskey in his hands as he thinks over the case. Tomorrow he’ll interview the owners of a traveling abstinence-only sex education group. He scoffs, wondering how the fuck America had gotten to the state where public schools welcomed people that scolded omegas and beta women not to have sex but didn’t give a shit if alphas did with open arms.

In middle school he remembers the day that brought-up sex education, his father had already loaded him with suppressants the day he had presented. The first sign of pre-heat and his father all but shoved pills down his throat. And ever since that day, Will had never experienced a heat, nor the wetness that he heard omegas experienced when aroused. For all he knew, he was a beta through and through, and had no desire for that ever to change.

Things were good as a beta.

Deep in thought, his eyes wonder around the sky, taking in the starless sky from the combination of light pollution from the city of Harrisburg and the nearly full moon that hangs in the sky. Third day here and the mixture between driving all over the New England area and the case has already thrown his sleeping off. He wished that like others, several hours in a car only prompted the want for a nap instead of a delving further into the minuscule details of a case.

Another sip of whiskey and he’s staring at the moon until it clicks.

“Oh, that’s unoriginal,” he mutters into his glass and turns back around into his hotel room. Will grabs the files of all the suspected dates of their deaths and lines them up to a website with a moon chart currently set up on his laptop – coordinating the dates. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

Every single omega was killed on a full moon. The next would rise tomorrow night.

Jack had sent him two police officers from Harrisburg to escort him onto the school campus when he had gotten news that Will could possibly be closing in on a suspect. The intention as clear as a neon sign: Jack did not want a repeat of what happened with Gideon and Hobbs and made sure Will was protected.

However, the police officers seemed to attract attention as they walked onto the middle school campus, the staff inside the school’s office uneasy as Will made the request to speak to the group that they have invited. So, he had requested that they stay in their police car for now – and that he would get on the walkie-talkie if he needed anything from them. He did not need the suspect to run away from the police presence in this crowd now, not when he was so close.

“This is Will Graham,” the principal introduces him to the man running the traveling group. He was a portly alpha, in his 60s, and had the look of a southern mayor. Will stops himself from laughing at the image of the alpha in a pair of old-timey suspender pants and offers his hand instead.

“Paul Landis,” he replies, as he shakes Will’s hand. It’s firm, a bit sweaty. Will wants to wipe it on his work slacks but stops himself so he doesn't appear rude. “What can I help you with Mr. Graham?” He replies, more interested in the skit happening on stage, a picture of someone’s infected penis currently projected up on the screen. The middle-schoolers having a mixed reaction to the image, some laugh, some cringe, a lot of ‘ews’ coming from the crowd. Will ignores it, hoping that the day when Molly and Will have to sign a permission slip for Wally to attend a public school sex education class that it’s nothing like this farce.

Will settles before him, blocking Paul’s line of sight to the stage, pulling out his FBI badge and all the attention to him, “I’m following up on a case that a couple of your employees in your company may be involved in.”

That certainly takes his attention from the stage and he quickly snaps to look at Will, “what’s wrong? Is it that separation of church and state shit? Cause we made it very clear that this is a private company who takes donations from-“

“It’s not about that,” Will assures him with a half-assed smile, uninterested in the so-called donations that mostly came from the church. “I’m investigating a series of murders. I’d like to speak with two of your long-term employees: Chantelle Becket and Robert Sheen?”

“What the hell did those two do?”

Will blinks, only slightly taken aback that someone so religious would be so…sleezy and car salesman like, “nothing. I would just like to interview them as they may have been witnesses to a few crimes that happened a couple of years ago.”

The man groans, irritated that their company has such a scandal. But regardless, he stands, and motions for Will to follow him, “yeah, they’re working the merchandise table out in the hall today. Slow right now cause all the kids are in here, so you can do…that cop interrogation thing you guys do.”

Paul brings him around to the merchandise table, Will looks over the display of religious merchandise from cross necklaces to prayer bookmarks. What catches his interest however is the display of purity rings.

“Channy, Robert, this is Will Graham,” Paul introduces and then immediately takes his leave, returning to the auditorium.

Even with the awkward intro from their boss, Channy immediately offers her hand for a handshake, an outgoing and friendly omega. The sort that would have been immensely popular in high school, one that would have a long line of alphas trying for their chance to court with her. Unbonded, however, given her scar-free neck and lack of a bonding band around her ring finger. “I’m Chantelle, but people call me Channy,” she replies, a huge smile on her face.

“Robert,” the beta beside her simply offers. The handshake is quick with him, but firm.

But as Will brings his eyes up to Robert’s, it clicks instantly. The man is a beta but as he works day in and day out beside an omega that will never be able to bond with him, taunting him for haven’t being born an alpha. The resentment and hatred that grew with Robert since he was a teenager has turned him into an emotionless creature that puppets emotions with a firm handshake and an unassuming smile.

“Are you here to buy a purity ring, Mr. Graham?” Channy offers, picking up the display case and poking at one of the nicer looking rings. Robert stays put, silent and judging by Channy’s lack of reaction to him, Will can only assume that the man has always been that way.

A ticking time bomb, emotions bottled inside only to come out in rageful bursts in private.

“I’m with the FBI,” he replies with a calm demeanor, noticing how Robert stiffens up even more in his chair.

Channy however reacts as one typically does when confronted with law enforcement, awkward and nervous even though they have no need to be and are trying to act normal, “oh? Is this about a case then?”

“One of the omegas that went missing had a ring just like this one,” he picks up the one that matches the mother’s description, a silver ring with an engraving in the center and something changes in Robert’s face. Robert knows that Will knows, but between his omega that he was intending to mate with and an FBI agent in front of him there is little he can do. A trapped animal that’s cornered and Will wonders what his response will be. Fight or flight? But Will continues, taking in both of their expressions, “another girl that went missing six years ago was part of the same religious denomination. You two are the only part of this traveling group that has been here for the past six years.”

“Oh,” Channy says, biting her lips, a nervous tick, “I don’t think I could recognize them in photos Agent Graham. We’ve been to so many of these the kids all kinda look the same after a while.”

Will nods, “understandable. I’m actually here about an old book? It was owned by a Matthew Brown about eight years ago and I was told that someone from your religious denomination was there the day it was taken.” Will’s gaze grows on Robert as they begin to stare each other down.

A large frown grows on Channy’s face and she turns to look at Robert, immediately she takes in his changed demeanor, “Robby?”

Robert doesn’t look at her however, only making Channy even more flustered as she stares between the FBI agent and her friend of several years, “I’m not talking without a lawyer.”

“Great,” Will replies, taking out the walkie talkie from his belt and raising it up in the air, about to click on the button to bring the cops from outside in, “then you won’t mind coming down to the station while we wait for your lawyer?”

A gun is pointed at his face then, fight it is. “Press that button and I’ll shoot you in the face right now.” Will lowers it. “On the table, give it to Channy.” Channy makes no movement to take the walkie-talkie from Will as he slides it towards her, both keeping their eyes on the unstable beta before them. “Channy?” He asks.

“Yeah?” She stutters out, frozen with fear.

“If anyone asks, I went to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” her hands shake as she watches Robert round their table, keeping the gun on the FBI agent before her.

Robert presses the gun to the small of Will’s back and presses forward, “walk to the back. All of our cars are parked there.”

No one pays any mind to them as they slowly walk down the hallway, almost everyone was in the auditorium, leaving it quiet in the main hall. As they make their way towards the exit they could hear the chirping beep of the walkie-talkie ending its end of the conversation, from where they had left Channy. “Hurry,” Robert commands, knowing his omega had betrayed him and called for the officers on the radio.

Outside, Robert rushes him to the front of his car, “drive. And if you try anything I’ll fucking shoot you. You get that?”

“Yes,” Will replies, pulling himself into driver’s seat. The beta hands him the keys, the gun shifting to the back of his head as Robert sits behind him.

“Go,” he commands, and Will follows it. With careful and slow movements, he starts the car and begins to pull it out. “Do you have handcuffs?”

Will looks at Robert through the rear view mirror, unafraid of the young beta behind him. Already he has been gutted, shot at, stabbed at. The kid could have shot him dead before, but for now he’s keeping him alive for something. He let’s himself reflect the beta, to understand where his motivations for keeping an FBI agent alive, what his mind is trying to plan for next. “Yes,” Will replies.

“A gun?”

“No.”

“Turn here.” The car turns around the corner, the drive only lasting for a few minutes as Robert gives him the directions on a need to know basis. Will takes note of the street signs. They pull up into a neighborhood that has been hit hard during the years and never recovered from it. “The apartment complex with the oak tree in front.”

He parks the car in the alleyway, taking in the decaying wood, weeds, and garbage that infested the once new brick walls. The beta orders him out and into the abandoned apartment complex. Will hears the jingle of the car keys being placed into Robert's pocket.

Inside it smelled of mold and decay, the sharp scent of blood in the air as they both turn into the living room. Black curtains drawn with bloody sigils drawn on the walls and floor. A young omega sits in a chair before him, pale and weak from blood loss. “The handcuffs, put them on behind your back.”

Slowly, he pulls the handcuffs from his belt – wishing he was cleared to carry a hand-gun – and places it on himself. The beta pulls forward, keeping the gun on him as he checks that they are tight enough around his wrists. Tight enough, Robert nods, “sit down. On the floor.”

Will does. “I’m going to assume your impromptu plan requires me alive.”

Robert blinks, surprised by the agent’s calmness and ease of reading the situation, “I do.” He paces back and forth in the living room, paying no attention to the slowly dying omega in the middle of the room, as if she were nothing more than a piece of decor. “I’m making a deal with a demon. And he’ll give you what you want in exchange.”

This guy was hopelessly lost in his delusions, and Will didn’t need to have to be trained in behavioral science to see this. “You want me to put the FBI off your trail in exchange...for a deal with a demon.”

The beta nods, turning his attention to the girl, “how many have you guys found?”

“Twelve.”

“I only meant for one…” Will takes his thumb into his other hand as Robert begins to ramble, how the ritual never seemed to work. He was sure they were all virgins, selecting his victims from the school assemblies he had attended, careful to keep his distance away from them until he had another alibi set for him in another state – another presentation to attend to for his church.

Will silently dislodges his thumb as he continues, biting his tongue to keep the pain from escaping. Slowly, he slips his hand through the handcuff.

“What do you want? You can have anything…you’re a beta like me. You can become an alpha, I can give you that if you let me kill this,” he pulls the girl’s head back, a painful grunt escaping her throat, “all you have to do is get the FBI off my back. I won’t kill again, not after I have Channy.”

A laugh escapes through his throat, pained and hoarse from his dislocated thumb that he continues to hide, “she just watched you pull a gun on an FBI agent and called the cops in on you after you left. You think she’s still gonna want to be with you?”

Robert storms towards Will again, the gun positioned at his chest, “once I’m an alpha, she’ll understand. I was fighting for her, and I won.”

Using the element of surprise, Will pulls forward and throws his weight into pushing his arm to the side. The gun going off and shooting the dry wall as he swiftly wrestles the firearm from Robert’s grasp - the training from the police academy kicking in on instinct. The beta stumbles backwards, choosing to grab a knife from the table – ancient and ceremonial albeit different from the one Will imagined from putting the crime scene together in his head only a few days ago.

Will points the gun at him as Robert rushes towards the girl with the knife, he shoots him repeatedly in the chest and arm several times as Robert lodges the knife haphazardly into the omega’s chest. Robert grabs the back of the chair as he falls down from the gun impact, laying beside the girl as her head smacks against the hardwood floor of the living room.

The girl writhes on the ground, half in a daze from the drugs and blood loss and half from the pain of the blade lodged in her chest. Her breathe a hoarse and dying wheeze. The blade had missed her heart but had stabbed through the left side of her chest, her lung quickly collapsing. The calmness he had while talking to Robert had disappeared the second the weapon was discharged in his hands. His hands shake from panic as he drops the gun into the middle of the sigil, quick to avoid the man he had just shot a number of times in the chest to help the girl instead.

Careful not to touch the hilt of the blade, he sits beside the girl – his mind an absolute panic as he tries to remember his emergency medical training in the police training academy. Unable to recall what the hell to do with a knife protruding out of someone's chest, Will fumbles out his cellphone, unable to unlock the screen as his bloodied finger tips just smear redness, the pressure not registering.

“Fuck, fuck,” he wipes his hand on his shirt and then tries again, hitting the emergency button below his lock screen. “Stay with me,” he desperately says to the girl below him, her wheezes becoming more strained as her lung begins to give out.

Blood from the perpetrator continues to pump out and mix with the girl’s blood, both slowly dying before Will as they succumb to their wounds.

“911, what’s your emergency?” A calm voice asks on the other end, but Will doesn’t register it as his focus returns to the two bodies in the middle of the sigil. The redness of the blood turning a deep black, covering the entire floor, before turning into a bottomless pit below him.

Will drops his phone in shock as he stands up – frightened at the never-ending blackness below as he watches the phone fall into the dark void. But he continues to stand there – as if he were floating or walking on a glass platform.

The blackness below him begins to move, congealing together into a solid form as it begins to consume the two bodies, wrapping thick black tendrils across their body and slowly eating them: the perp and the victim swallowed alive by the pitch-black creature.

Slowly it begins to take shape, light beginning to reflect off its body. It amasses into the shape of a feather stag, a fearsome beast that stands in the center of the sigil and keeps its white dead gaze on Will. It shakes its head as if it had just woken up from a deep slumber, exhales breath and begins to slowly walk around Will, as if it were a predator regarding its prey.

Dumbfounded, Will just stands there watching it as it stalks forward. It’s nostrils flair as it scents him, and for a second Will sees his own death as it rears its large span of antlers into the air. The black stag pulls forward, its antlers stabbing through his body. Sharp pain, his eyes clenching shut at the stabbing pain, disappearing into the darkness of his unconscious mind.

It’s hours before he wakes up, laying on the floor of the living room. Slowly, he opens his eyes, trying to remember what had happened when he startles up with a jolt. His body stiff from laying on the hardwood floors.

Will looks around the abandoned room: the blood drawn sigils on the floor had disappeared with the black void, but the dried blood drawn on the walls remains. Dizzy, Will stands back up, did he hallucinate all of this? Only a few days in with helping Jack and he’s already loosing it?

Fuck, he thinks, and pats his pants for his cellphone, only for it to come up empty. He looks at his hands – covered in the girl’s  dried blood. And then to his shirt, it looked brown now that it had fully oxidized, no longer was it a bright red. He stumbles backward as he realizes that the girl’s blood – even as it had disappeared from the floor of the house – was still splattered all over him. The killer’s blood as well, the spray from him he had unloaded Robert's gun.

Looking around, he realizes that he had dropped the gun along with the cellphone. Lost to that black void. If it ever actually was there.

Slowly, he stumbles outside, grasping the door frame as he looks around the alleyway. The car belonging to Robert Sheen is still there, old enough to be hot-wired. He jiggles the car handle – locked, and examines the alley for anything he can break the window with. As he wraps his hand around a rusted tire iron he notices his thumb: completely healed from being dislodged from its socket.

“The fuck…”

He pushes that to the side, right now he needs to get the fuck out of here. He smashes the window to the car and unlocks it, then settles himself in the front seat as he rips open the underside of the car’s steering wheel. He hasn’t hot-wired anything in years, but Robert didn’t have a lot of money for a newer model – the car old enough that the pattern was familiar enough and he got the car up in running only in a few minutes.

The roads are beginning to empty out as the sun finally sets, the car radio clock telling him that he was out for 6 hours. Trying to backtrack from the roads that Robert forced him to take, he was still unsure of where the hell he is. Without his phone’s GPS, he pulls into a nearby gas station.

“Need your phone,” Will states, the gas station clerk giving him a frightened look from all the dry blood splatter on Will’s clothes. He takes out his FBI badge and the clerk silently shoves the phone towards him, keeping his eye on Will.

He dials out Jack’s number, having memorized it long ago to make sure he never picked up a phone call from him in Florida. It takes a moment for the alpha to pick up on the other end, “This is Jack Crawford.”

“Jack, it’s me.”

There’s a moment of brief silence on the other end, and Will can hear the noise of a police station behind him, “where the hell are you Will? Those cops I sent you with said you just disappeared. I just got up here when they notified me.”

“Ah, yeah. Kidnapped more like.”

“Where the hell are you?”

Will blinks and looks around, the florescent lights practically stabbing his eye balls as he examines where he is. He looks over to the gas station clerk, who wants absolutely nothing to do with the man with blood all over his clothes and flinches when Will asks, “where am I?”

“Sunoco on Maclay and Front.”

Will copies that to Jack, who’s only response is: “stay there.”

It doesn’t take long for Jack and a couple of Harrisburg police cruisers to appear. The gas station clerk looking more than relieved to see Will being escorted out of his shop and leaving him the hell alone. Minimum wage wasn't enough to deal with some asshole covered in blood.

Jack gets into the back of the police cruiser with Will, “you okay?”

Unsure of what happened really happened and unable to trust his own mind even after two years away from the FBI, he was _definitely_  not okay. The hallucinations he had after killing Hobbs was nothing compared to the black void he was standing over just hours ago, the stabbing pain of a stag too realistic for his mind to recreate to that level of vividness.

He wants to tell Jack that no, he’s pretty far from being okay, when he can feel his head turning and his own mouth move on its own accord: “ _I'm fine._ ”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will returns to Florida, while Hannibal stretches his new host's legs after being trapped in the underworld for over sixty years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha, why do I love putting Hannibal in awkward situations so much, i just feel like he'd struggle with a chip reader the guy is so pretentious and probably pays with cash and he's such an old fart......italics are when Hannibal is speaking through Will.
> 
> anyways, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own and criticism is welcome :)

Subsequently, Hannibal was pushed down.

Never had that happened in any of his previous possessions. Humans were quite easy to control, but this one…there was something about this one. Will’s mind was completely blocked off, a barrier that even he couldn’t break through. The short moment of control was his exploit at Will’s moment of confusion, but the man had quickly pushed him away as if he was nothing more than a fly.

Briefly, he wonders if his time away from Earth had softened him. But as he watches Will through his eyes as the man rifles through a polices files with the date reading 2018, it’s only been around 60 years since he was last here. There were periods of time where Hannibal had been locked away for over 100 years and still, the humans he would possess was nothing more than an easy to control rag doll.

The human he was in control of now was standing in front of window, the interview room of a police station. He watches as a lawyer enters into the room, sitting beside a young omega woman who’s name is Chantelle Becket. And even though Will’s mind was blocked off to his own, Hannibal could tell that Will had very little interest in the woman. There were other concerns growing in Will’s mind.

“She had nothing to do with it, Jack,” he says to the dark-skinned man standing beside him. The other was an alpha, and although Hannibal couldn’t exactly tell what his new host was, the way the police officers and the FBI agents interacted with Will, the man must be a beta.

Jack doesn’t seem to move a muscle, too focused on the omega before him, separated by a wall of glass. “Channy stuck with a job that paid very little for several years for a guy, and I’m to believe that she wasn’t interested in him?”

Will exhales, tired of having to argue with the man. Already he had been photographed, stripped, and questioned repeatedly about Robert Sheen and how he had ran away during Will’s supposed black out. “Not all omegas are interested in romance. She might have stuck around for the job, it’s you who’s assuming she stayed for Robert.” The other snorts. But Will continues despite it: “she’s extremely devout, there was nothing about her that screamed that she was in cohorts with Robert. I mean, for fucks sake Jake, she called the cops in on the radio when she didn’t have to.”

“I just have an uneasy feeling about this. He kidnaps you, you said you shot at him and tried to save the omega he kidnapped, but there was nothing there.”

“So, what? Am I a suspect then too?”

“Yes, you are,” Jack cuts to the point, “until I know what the hell went on when you ditched both Alana and the police officers I explicitly sent with you so this entire thing would be avoided, you are.”

A feeling of anger begins to grow and spread within Will, and Hannibal could feel it just beyond the barrier of his mind. But he’ll have to stay low, figure out how to best get control of the new host’s body. And at least for now the fact that he’s riding in an FBI agent’s body, that is somewhat interesting – especially after the dullness of the underworld.

It is, however, quite difficult to get a grasp of the world 60 years after he had last been here. The humans around him fiddle with black squares that fit in the palm of their hands, bright screens illuminating their faces. A black man in a high position of power within the FBI is progressive, at least the humans have abandoned some of their racist beliefs.

He wonders what else has changed since, but his new host has been practically stuck in this shit hole of a police station. Desperate to get the hell out and stretch his legs, Hannibal tries again to gain control over Will’s body.

As he tries once more to gain control, his host seems to push back. And so, Hannibal only gets a brief arm twitch before Will awkwardly crosses them to stop his arm from moving of its own will. “I’m not staying any longer than I have to, Jack. So, if I’m a suspect, then you’re gonna have to arrest me to put me on hold, otherwise I’m boarding that plane tomorrow and going back home to my wife.”

Annoyed, Jack finally looks at Will, “this case isn’t over, Will. Robert Sheen is still out there.”

“I said I’d help, Jack,” Will practically spits out, seething with anger at being pushed after yet another stressful day beforehand, “I found your perp, I got you a suspect. What else do you want from me?”

Jack turns his head back watch the omega talk with her lawyer beside her, tense: “you found him not even three days after I pulled you from Florida, Will.” Will blinks, unsure of where Jack is heading with this. And Jack’s voice grows more solemn, quieter: “I promised myself I wouldn’t strong arm you back into the FBI but dammit Will. You made more movement on this case within a day than we ever did in a year.”

“I’m not coming back, Jack. And I don’t want you coming down to my home every damn time you get stuck on something, that’s not my job anymore. That’s yours.”

The lawyer, Sam Fields, stands up then, crossing the floor of the room and pops his head out breaking the two out of their bickering session. “Since she’s an unmated omega, she doesn’t want an alpha questioning her.”

“Beta?”

“Yes, otherwise she says she’ll refuse to talk.”

Slowly, Jack turns to Will: “Get her statement, and you’re free to go back home.”

Wordlessly, Will follows Sam into the interview room and settles himself across from Channy. Jack lingers in the same place, watching them sit across from each other. Immediately, she recognizes him, “you’re okay.”

“Yes, I am. How about you, Channy?”

Channy shrugs, wrapping her arms around herself as a comfort and glances briefly to her lawyer. He nods, allowing her to say what she wants. “A bit shaken up.”

Nodding, Will opens up the case file on the omega before him. Nothing much about her except for her driver’s license – not even so much as a traffic ticket on her record. “You’ve known Robert Sheen for a long time?”

“We went to high school together, we were the only ones who were very religious, so we stuck together. So, when our church offered a job to travel with them, we both jumped at the chance.”

“Has he ever given you suspicion about his interest in Satanism?”

She shakes her head, confused, “no.”

“Has he ever shown you a book, it would look rather ancient and old. It had no title.”

Again, she shakes her head.

“You stayed with that job for several years, with Robert. Were you interested in Robert, romantically?”

Channy shifts, looking rather annoyed from the question and again looks at her lawyer once more before turning back to face Will, “I wasn’t. At all.”

“Assuming from your reaction, you got that question quite a lot.”

“From family and friends, yeah. I had no interest in Robert like that, he was my friend and co-worker and nothing more.”

Will nods, believing her. “Was it because he was a beta that you had no romantic interest in him?”

“No. I just don’t like…all of that romance stuff. My family wanted me to get bonded, married to an alpha years ago. I’m nearing my 30s and I’ve never been more happier being by myself. And you might not understand, given you’re a beta but us omegas are pressured into finding another person to be with all the time.” She pauses, gathering herself and nervously twirls her hair. Her voice lowers, quiet now that Jack couldn’t hear her. “I liked working for the church because they pushed abstinence only. I’ve never been interested in sex, even during my heats, it was…an inconvenience.”

“You’re ace.”

She nods, her voice strained, unused to vocalizing who she is and how she feels about something so private, “people don’t understand that there are asexual omegas out there.”

“I understand,” Will smiles, and reaches out to touch her hand to calm her down, “I did not mean to out you like that.”

“It’s fine.”

Will closes her file after that, turning to face the window to look at Jack. He couldn’t see him, the window being one-sided after all, but regardless he was done. Nothing about the girl was suspicious and he just wanted to go the hell home.

There were no more arguments as Will walked out of the interview and settled his gaze upon Jack. Only a curt nod was given, and Jack took the file from Will. “Let her go,” he says to the police officers waiting in the room with him. “It was nice seeing you again, Will.”

“Yeah,” he replies simply. It was not nice at all, just a few days here and his mind had already seemed to slip back into the old patterns. Even his body felt like it was not his own. “Keep your promise to Bella,” he adds, a need for Jack to put this case behind him and let others do the work.

After dropping off his rental car, Will settles into the seat at his airport gate. All alone now, without Jack beside him and no case files to review, he nervously begins to jiggle his leg. His cellphone was lost…somewhere, he remembers the black void but he’s unsure if that even happened. Beverly had called it at the crime scene, but there was nothing surrounding the house.

They marked it up to Robert Sheen stealing and destroying it when he supposedly ran away.

That would be the most obvious conclusion and Will wanted to believe it, believe that he wasn’t actually standing on a black maw that swallowed his cellphone, a handgun, and then two dead bodies – one he had killed and the other an omega he failed to save. Bored and waiting for his flight, Will settles into the uncomfortable airport chair and rests his head back, letting himself doze off.

It’s when a man yells at the flight attendant at the gate desk that Hannibal pulls through, taking control of Will’s body as his mind slips into unconsciousness.

Hannibal turns to watch the commotion, wearing Will’s face: a man nearing his 40s, wearing a rather nice suit – although obviously not tailored to fit his body – currently yelling at the young lady across him. The man was an obvious alpha, had some money and wasn’t used to sub-par customer service, expecting all of his needs to be met even when they were out of the other's power.

Something about his tickets not being first class. How rude, to take it out on the employee who had nothing to do with the mix up. He rolls his shoulders back, enjoying the movement that he couldn’t get while Will was in control.

Finally, he stands up and stretches his legs. It’s absolute bliss to be back on Earth, an entire playground just waiting for him. And quite a lot of meals, he thinks as he watches the yelling customer before him. The man will be on his same flight, he finds out as he eavesdrop, and Hannibal smiles. He’ll have to get a business card out of him, somehow, unwilling to let such a meal go.

In his hands is a paper ticket for the flight, learning that the plane isn’t leaving for another hour, he turns his attention to the multitude of shops in the airport. Across the way from his gate was a small little bookshop that sold popular novels and souvenirs for the travelers. He wonders inside, watching Will’s fingers dance across the spines of the books before him. The packaging of the novels has changed, soft covers with a colorful graphics on them. Very different from the books from the 1950s, and then he wonders to a small stack of newspapers.

Picking one up, he takes it to the counter and watches as another customer pays for their purchase with a small plastic card. Hannibal digs into Will’s wallet, realizing that he had no cash whatsoever, except for a similar looking plastic card. He pulls it out and looks it over, it was very similar to a Diner’s Club card that his previous host had owned except for on the front there was a gold chip on the bottom and a black stripe on the back.

“ _Good afternoon_ ,” Hannibal places his purchase on the desk, smiling through Will’s mouth.

“How are you?” The teen asks as he scans the newspaper. A beep and then he is staring at the monitor before him, leaving Hannibal to wonder what it was and if it was similar at all to the devices the humans held in their palms. “Two dollars and twenty-one cents.”

Surprised, Hannibal frowns, “ _that’s rather expensive for a newspaper_.”

The teen shrugs, uncaring about the situation, “yeah, I guess.” Hannibal takes out the card from Will’s wallet, confused, he offers it to the teenager but he just looks taken aback. “Oh, you got a chip. Yeah, just shove it in the chip reader.”

He points to the payment terminal, and Hannibal notices the symbol of the chip and awkwardly shoves it in the wrong way. “No, like, the other way.”

Hannibal flips it around to the other side, the chip still not going in. “Here,” the kid offers, taking the credit card from Will’s fingers and gently placing it in.

The digital screen before him asks for a pin and Hannibal grimaces, “ _what’s a pin?”_

He gets a stifled groan as a response, the teenager not wanting to show his annoyance at a customer but failing, “Just hit the red circle it will run it as credit.”

With the newspaper purchased, Hannibal settles back into the seat that Will was in before, opening the pages to find out what else he had missed since his exorcism in 1956. The biggest news story of the week was South and North Korea ending the war with each other – surprised that it had taken this long for them to declare peace between the two nations, he continues to read until the boarding opens.

Will did not have a first-class ticket, Hannibal notices as he takes it out and looks it over as he gets in line for boarding. Several people around him take out their phones instead of a paper ticket and he wonders why Will doesn’t have one when the others did. The dress of 2018 was completely different from how people used to dress the last time he was on Earth, many of them wearing flip flops and incredibly short shorts in the humid summer heat of Virginia. He looks over his host’s own dress-wear, the plaid button down was tucked into khaki work pants. That will need fixing.

With only a small bag of luggage, Hannibal stores it in the overhead and settles into his assigned seat. He looks outside of the window, his eyes on the tarmac below and the movements of the workers loading the luggage into another plane. Several minutes pass before the man from before sits beside him, his movements stiff, annoyance radiating off his body.

Apparently, he wasn’t able to fix his first class ticket issue. But what a gift it was for him to land right beside Hannibal, and he smiles, offering his hand to him: “ _I’m Dr. Hannibal Lecter, good afternoon.”_

The annoyance doesn’t subside, the man clearly wasn’t happy to be talking to his neighbor, wanting nothing more than just a quiet plane ride. But he takes Hannibal’s hand and shakes it, “Dr. Kenneth.” He replies curtly, sitting down and adjusting his seat belt. “A doctor as well then? What’s your field?”

“ _Psychiatry. Although before I switched fields, I was a surgeon._ ”

“Yeah? I just practice family medicine.”

Taking that, Hannibal rolls with it: “ _A very noble field as well, may I have your business card?_ ”

The man pulls out his wallet and he hands Hannibal his business card, not bothering to ask why Hannibal wanted it – still too peeved with being shafted from first class. 

It takes another fifteen minutes for the plane to move, and after years of being locked up in nothing but darkness, it was an enjoyment to watch as it lifted into the bright sky. The city below growing tinier and tinier as the landscape quickly turned into patches of different colored farm land.

In the recesses of Will's mind, he startles awake and with a jolt he sits up, gasping. A dark forest surrounds Will, the feeling of twigs and leaves beneath his body. Carefully, he rises and takes in the trees that tower above. Dark and eerie, unlike any forest he had ever been in before – it was as if he was situated in the middle of a horror film. Nervously, he asks the silence: “hello?”

Nothing responds, leaving him in the quietness. He moves forward, touching the bark of one of the trees, and pulling his hand away when he touched something moist. Retracting his hand, he looks at it to find it black and shiny – reflecting what light the forest could. He wipes it on his clothing, leaving a red trail of blood on his beige work pants.

The sound of his cellphone ringing startles him, freezing in spot as he listens for it. It seems to echo through the forest, unsure of where it is even coming from, Will starts in one direction. A creature in the distance seems to follow him, watching him from afar – and Will couldn’t make it out with the lack of light, the possibility of a creature with antlers disappearing as he looked closer and only made out the shape of naked tree branches.

Only a few more rings and then there is silence once more. He swallows, scared and alone in a place he’s not even sure how he got there. Unsure of what to do, he steps forward a couple more steps, his foot settling on something harder than the soft moist ground below. Will steps backward, and kneels, searching the ground for what he believed to be his cellphone.

It’s the gun instead, and he jolts up and steps backwards. Where the fuck is he? Both the gun and the cellphone were lost in that black void only a few days ago, and now he is here alongside it? No dream of his has ever felt so vivid, the coldness that surrounds him and the quiet of the forest too realistic to be a mimic of the nightmares he was plagued with after Hobbs and Gideon. Will kneels back down, and he picks it up the gun, desperate for its safety as he continues along looking for any sign of the cellphone. If the gun had dropped here, then the cellphone shouldn’t be  _too_  far.

It sits on top of one of the leaf-less branches before him, the black cellphone reflected the moonlight from above of its screen. Relieved, he exhales and grabs it – turning the cellphone on to find the missed calls from Beverly and a text from Molly: ‘did u get on the plane safely? were here in kwia missed u so much!!!’. He blinks, reading the message, his mind had formed the exact way that his wife tended to text him with, bad grammar and all.

Suddenly the darkness subsides as Will jolts awake. The plane had already landed, most of the people had gotten up and left already but the line leading out of the plane was still there. On his lap was a newspaper and he stares at it before tucking it into the airplane seat in front of him, still too disheveled from an extremely vivid dream to bother to wonder where it had came from or why it was there on his person.

He can’t remember boarding the plane, but at some point he did. Will grabs his luggage from the overhead, taking note of what was still inside. His wallet was still in his back pocket. Quickly, he joins the line and begins the slow exit from the plane. Trying to shake off the dark feeling that had invaded him during his dreams.

Both Molly and Will are there, huge smiles on their faces as they watch him exit the gate. “Missed you!” Molly wraps her arms around him, pulling him into a warm embrace. “How was the trip?”

“Stressful, as it always is when working with Jack,” Will smiles despite that, not wanting to bog Molly down with the last five days. Especially what had happened in the course of the last forty-eight, the black stag still pressing at the back of his mind, the darkness of the forest still unsettling in his memories.

The scent of sea-salt floods the air as they walk out of the Key West International Airport and towards their car. It’s home, and perhaps whatever hallucination that he had experienced when he had shot Robert Sheen would subside and his life would go back to normal. Desperately hoping that the nightmare on the plane would be just that, and not follow him home.

Already, life returned to the average every-day ins and outs of middle-class family life, his wife pulling the car into the parking lot of Hog-fish Bar and Grill that was on the way back towards Sugarloaf Key. The restaurant is surrounded by a marina, the squawks of seagulls fill the air, grounding Will to the here and now of his life with Molly. The place wasn’t busy, at least not yet, and they are quickly settled into a booth.

“I tried texting you,” Molly says, her eyes on the menu. Beside her, Wally was playing a game on his cellphone, having already settled on a cheeseburger before they even parked the car. “You didn’t answer me.”

Nothing on this menu looks good. Even after eating nothing but road food and vending machine snacks, when he remembered to. Will nods, peering over the menu to look at his wife, “I lost it somewhere.”

“You lost your phone?” She sighs, “we just bought that thing.”

“Not a big deal, I’ll get another one. What did you text me about?”

Molly shrugs, “just wanted to make sure that you were on that plane is all.”

They order their food, Molly getting hog-fish and chips and Wally his cheeseburger and fries. Will had settled on a shrimp po’ boy.

Their dinner is uneventful and Will is ultimately greatful for that. There was no more desire for the chaos and busy life he once had before in Virginia, there was a reason why he moved out here to a vacation spot surrounded by the beach and his beautiful wife.

As Will takes out his wallet to pay for their meal, he finds a business card for a ‘Dr. Kenneth’ beside his debit card. Odd, he pushes that aside as he sets the card down and continues to talk with his wife about the on-going drama of the small town of Sugarloaf Key. Apparently, their neighbor saw a shark in the water and it had kicked up a bit of a panic. It wasn’t the first time they had to deal with a false alarm for a shark, “It will probably be a couple of days and then everyone will be back in the water again,” Molly mentions in the car as she buckles her seat-belt. “We can take the boat out this weekend if you want?”

Will nods, not exactly registering what she’s asking him for, and just mutters out a soft ‘yeah.’

The dogs all greet him in a mass of fur and wagging tails as he opens the door to their small little beach home. Wally quickly returning to his game console, ignoring his mother and step-dad as they climb upstairs. A few of the dogs follow them upstairs, while the rest linger around Wally, laying next to him as he loads up a shooter game.

Molly sits on their bed as she watches Will unpack his bag, returning the medication to the medicine cabinet, the dirty clothes into the hamper, shampoo, conditioner, and his Old Spice body soap to their shared shower stall. As Will messes around in their master bath, Molly slides her shirt strap down her shoulder and adjusts herself so that her posture was one that was alluring.

Her husband turned around and barely gave her a glimpse as he shoves his luggage bag into the recesses of the closet. “Will,” she says, pulling his attention to her as she glances up to him with bedroom eyes.

He stands there for a moment, not really registering what she’s trying to do. “Are you still tired from the flight?” She asks when Will makes no movement to undress and take her.

“Yeah,” he mutters out, blinking, he rubs his hands over his jaw and sighs, “yeah. You know how working these things affect me Molly.”

Molly pulls the strap to her shirt back up, and settles onto the bed, patting the mattress so that her husband will join her, “talk to me.”

The bed dips as Will sits next to her, and she wraps her arms around his neck, cuddling up to him. “I killed the guy...or at least, I think I did. It was all very confusing.”

With a jolt, she pulls away from him. Wide-eyed, she looks at Will with confusion, “Jack said you were fine on the phone.”

“I told him not to tell you, I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I think I have a damn right to worry, Will. What the hell happened?”

He opens his mouth, wanting to tell her everything that he thinks he saw, but Molly would insist on seeing his psychiatrist more often – even though he hadn’t seen one in years, the lie that he was to cover the fact that he was leaving to meet some shady dealer in Miami for suppressants instead of anxiety meds.

“Listen, I’ll tell you later when I’m…I’m still trying to figure out everything and I just got off that plane.”

She blinks, frowning at her husband as he pulls away from her and lays down on the bed. “Fine, alright.” She was the one to push her husband into this, and now it was best if she let Will tell her what happened on his own terms. Molly bites her lips, and curls up next to him, letting Will pull her closer to his body and find some comfort.

Molly doesn’t awake when Will’s body pulls out away from her as Hannibal sits up on the bed. He looks around, curious about his host’s life as he softly walks around their master bedroom and taking in their photos that are scattered about the dressers and walls.

He enters the bathroom, shutting the door behind him as he flicks on the light. Hannibal never quite had the chance to really look at the face of his new host - only quick glimpses in the reflection of windows, and now he finally takes the man in: a strong jaw with stubble lining his face, curly brown hair, and large – although a bit asymmetrical – eyes. A very handsome man, as Hannibal turns around and looks over the man’s body.

There’s an urge to undress and further explore the new body the demon resides in, but something stops him as he remembers Will putting away a pill bottle into the medicine cabinet. Opening it, he finds the orange pill bottle and looks it over: sertraline. He’ll have to investigate that later, the scientific term for the medication well outside his outdated psychiatry from the 1950s.

Hannibal unscrews the pill bottle’s cap and shakes out one of the pills. He examines it, noticing the upper-case omega symbol engraved into the white pill – medications created solely for omegas. He smirks as he realizes what his host truly is, an omega hiding as a beta. Male omegas were treated like garbage even in the 1950s, rarities that they are, and given the suppressants in Will's possession, it’s no surprise that they still are even in 60 years later. Curious to see how the omega will react tomorrow morning, he dumps the entirety of the pills into the toilet and flushes it as a smirk grows on his face.

This should be interesting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get more suppressants, the hunger inside Will and Hannibal grows to a pushing point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> considering pushing this to a tuesday update after my Good Cannibal fic wraps up, if you want it to stay on saturday/sunday updates let me know!
> 
> not beta'd, mistakes are my own. constructive criticism is welcome

After almost thirty years of being on suppressants, Will knew the clear signs that he had missed a pill as he woke up more aroused, pressing against his wife and the feeling of want in both his cock and his ass. Quickly, he pulled away from Molly as soon as he recognized it and softly entered their master bathroom, flipping on the lights. Beyond the bathroom door he could hear Molly shifting in their bed, she tended to sleep later than he did and he was sure she would fall back to sleep after the disturbance.

Opening the medicine cabinet, he pulls out his pills. Quickly, he realizes that the thing was empty from the lack of weight and the noise the pills made when they rattled around inside. “What the hell,” shocked, he rummages underneath their bathroom sink for any sign that he had simply misplaced the actual bottle and this was simply an empty bottle from his last batch.

It’s happened before, missing a dosage, but he quickly got back on track before any signs showed – that and when he did forget he had the pleasure of living out in the middle of no where with no betas or alphas in a mile long radius. “Fuck…” he shuts off the light and gently sits beside his wife, quietly he nudges her awake.

She hums in displeasure, her eyebrows tensing at the intrusion and groans as she pulls away – shoving her face into the pillows.

“Molly.”

“What?” Her sleepy voice murmurs through the pillow.

“Do you know what happened to my meds?”

Very slowly, she shifts as her sleep-addled mind tries to figure what in the hell her husband was talking about. Pulling her face up from the pillow she turns and blinks at Will, her eyes puffy and half-shut, “what?”

Will takes out his pill bottle, showing it to her, “it’s empty…I had nearly a month supply still in there.”

Sleepy, she takes the bottle into her own hands, examining it, “did it fall out in your bag?”

“No…I mean I was tired, maybe they did.”

Molly nods, settling herself back into bed as she quickly dozes back to sleep. Softly, Will takes the bag out of the walk-in closet and takes it outside into the hallway, flicking on the lights there so he wouldn’t disturb Molly’s sleep.

He opens the pouch where he kept his meds and ran his hand around the lining of the pocket, filling nothing inside. Just to cover all bases, he moves onto the other pockets to find the same result. “Fuck,” Will shoves the small luggage bag into the corner of the hall and slides his back down the wall, wondering how in the world his pills went missing.

The thought briefly occurs that Wally could’ve stolen them, he was at the age where kids began to trade prescription drugs around at school to seem cool even if the drugs were absolutely useless to give them a high, but their master bedroom was locked for the night. Nor did he want to accuse his step-son of something so dishonest and loose any smidgen of trust that grew between them.

No. The only other explanation that worked was that he was sleep-walking again and had dumped them somewhere. He was sure that the pills had been inside the bottle when he had put them back the night before...

Deep in thought, he freezes when, in the corner of his eyes, a shadow moves. The black stag from the house stands there in the hallway, keeping its eyes on Will, taking note of his movements. Will’s breath stills as he stares upon the creature, un-moving as it keeps their white gaze locked on him. It's black feathers shake in its gentle movements, shifting its weight as it regards the omega in front of it.

“Will?” A voice calls, but Will doesn’t react to it, instead he watches the stag blink and then turn its attention to the source of the voice. It rears its antlers, the threat against Molly clear in the stag's body language.

Before the stag can strike like it had done to Will only days before, Molly suddenly appears in his vision, his cheeks held between the soft palms of her hands, breaking off the hallucination of the stag in the hallway. “Are you okay?”

His eyes focus on her, grounding himself back into reality as he notices their position in the hallway: Will practically kneeling on the floor with Molly squatting in front of him, the age on her face more obvious with the stress of worry. Exhaling, he nods, “I’m…I’m fine.”

“You weren’t responding to me. Is this about the meds? You lost them?”

Slowly, he pushes himself up from the ground as Molly touches his shoulders. Worry is painted all over her face, she had been the main reason why Will went ahead and talked to Jack Crawford. Her husband had been doing great for the past two years and she had only met the man after his recovery from the metal hospital that he was checked into after Hobbs – Molly hadn’t been there for Will’s sleepwalking and loss of time. Only the anxiety and recovery from his depression.

Seeing the extent of how much it affects Will only makes her feel even more guilty, “I should have never guilt-tripped you like that.”

Will sighs, finally focusing on her since the creature in the hall had dissipated with the arrival of his wife, “it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. You haven’t even taken a shower in over a day, you accidentally lost your meds somewhere, and you look like you've just seen a damn ghost, Will. It’s probably a good thing you tossed them, go see Dr. Brenner sooner rather than later.”

Nodding is all he can do, she was right. Except Will hadn’t seen Dr. Brenner since the first time they moved to Florida, he was merely an excuse to leave every so often to Miami to refill his suppressants with a much more illegal source. Will runs his fingers through his hair, realizing that it was much more oily than it was the day before – he had forgotten to take a shower and it’s a wonder Molly didn’t push him out of the bed like that.

Molly leaves him to get breakfast and a pot of coffee on as Will undresses and settles into the shower, letting the hot water thoroughly soak his brown curls. When the water starts to run cold, he shuts it off and sets out – grabbing a plush towel to quickly dry himself off. As he turns around and faces the mirror, he looks over himself noticing that something was off.

The steam continues to dissipate as he dries his hair, wondering why he thought himself to look odd in the mirror, when it hits him: his stomach scar from Abel Gideon.

He runs his fingers over the smooth flesh of his abdomen, no longer was there a scar there. The raised pink flesh from a linoleum knife had all but disappeared and then he looks over his shoulder. The gun wound from his time as a police officer in New Orleans was gone as well.

_That_  was weird.

Blinking, he steps backwards, unsure of what the hell to do about something like missing scars, and quickly strides into his bedroom to get dressed. His wife would notice it eventually, she had to, but right now he didn’t want to add more stress onto her. It was bad enough he was sprawled on the floor, practically hyperventilating over a black feathered stag that wasn’t there.

Wally is already awake and digging into some pancakes as he steps into the kitchen. Molly smiles at him as she hands him a plate of pancakes, “coffee is done.”

“Thanks,” he replies, taking the plate and setting it down to pour himself a much needed cup of coffee. “I’m heading out after this.”

“To see your doctor?”

“Yeah, I can’t skip any pills and he said he can take me as an emergency, get my prescriptions refilled since I used up my last round.”

Molly nods, settling next to her son with her own plate and cup of coffee, “get yourself a cellphone while you’re out.”

Will smiles back at her, “of course. First thing I’ll do when I get back to civilization.”

There wasn’t much Hannibal could do as Will was awake, resigning himself to just watching until he could find the right moment to try and attempt at control once more. He found Molly to be completely average, helpful and loving to Will, but a stable home-life was not going to help one bit at getting the wall removed from Will’s mind.

She was a god-awful cook, as the taste of pancakes hit both Will’s and now shared with Hannibal’s taste buds. Definitely pre-made mix with syrup that was more artificial sweeteners than real sugar – it was an abomination for Hannibal’s more cultured tongue. Nor was there the flesh that wendigoag like himself needed and desperately craved after decades of starvation. Will's stomach growls in hunger, something deep inside of needed more than just the pancakes in front of him, but he couldn't put his finger on what.

Will’s previously human form loved these pancakes, only a week ago did Molly make these and while the breakfast was nothing special or superb, they were damn good pancakes. But now, as he took a bite, his gag reflex went off.

_Absolutely disgusting_ , a thought intrudes – Will unsure if it was his own or not – it had felt foreign the moment it fluttered into his mind. He mutters a ‘not hungry’ and scoots the plate over to Wally, who was more than happy to take the extra food with his growing body.

“You okay?” Molly inquires, sipping on her coffee.

“Yeah,” Will replies, trying to avoid her gaze. Slipping back into old habits, he thinks, as he forces himself to look at her, “I think I’ve just been craving protein lately, I’m not sure.”

She blinks, setting her coffee down, “oh, I can make you some eggs and sausage if you want?”

He shakes his head, not wanting to bother her with more cooking after the mess the pancakes had made all on their own, “it’s fine. I have to head out now anyways, long drive to Miami.”

“Wish there was a doctor closer to us.”

Shrugging, Will replies, the lie easily rolling off his tongue: "I’m sure there are but I’m fond of Dr. Brenner and you know how I am about psychiatrists. I’ll just deal with the drive.”

She smiles and nods, accepting it at face-value, the need to question her husband about that sort of thing never crossed her mind. “Don’t like you leaving right when you just got back, but I’ll see you tonight then.”

Will swoops in and kisses her on the cheek, avoiding her sticky lips from the syrup, and smiles, “of course. Love you.” He then ruffles Wally’s bed hair – making them even messier and wild than it was – “be good.”

“Love you,” Molly replies. Wally just grunts in response, still too sleepy to form a proper response.

He quickly leaves after gathering his wallet and keys, there was no way he could stay around Molly without suppressants for any longer. She’d want to go out, go to the beach where his alpha neighbors frequented, they would notice something was off if he didn’t take a dosage before tonight.

* * *

 

Florida was a nice change from Virginia, as Freddie Lounds lands in the Key West International Airport only a day after Will Graham. Her source had been late in relying the fact that Will Graham had returned to the field – at least for a few days, certainly not enough time to track him down and ambush him with the erratic movements across states that he made.

She watches through her binoculars from a rental car as Will Graham’s wife walks a hoard of dogs down at the beach. Beside Molly was their son, Wally, he had grown a lot since Freddie last had her eyes on them. They had only met once, briefly, the encounter almost leaving Freddie with Molly’s fist in her face from taking a picture of her unconscious husband in a hospital bed, against his will.

Unwarranted, she thought, as she did put a black box around the beta’s genitalia. After all, she wasn’t that sleazy.

Keeping her eyes on Molly Foster Graham, she shuts the rental car door and makes sure her recording device was on and hidden well. She hadn’t packed any beachwear, so she slips off her boots and carries them as she steps into the sand. Freddie smiles as she nears Molly and her son, the dogs quickly taking an interest in the newcomer – only the ones from Virginia recognizing her scent from long ago.

“Much nice than Virginia, I have to say I get why Will moved down here.”

Molly suddenly stills and turns to face the source of the voice, a scowl growing on her face, “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Freddie’s eyebrows lift, turning her attention to the kid beside her, “you kiss your mother with that mouth, Molly?’

Wally, confused about who this woman is, replies, “I know the f word. I’m not a baby.”

“Oh? Yeah, how old are you?”

"Twelve-"

Molly steps in front of her child, “don’t say anything to her Wally. Just ignore her, come on.”

As they start, Freddie follows them, enjoying the sand between her toes as she walks just a few paces away, “where’s Will Graham?” Not surprising, Molly doesn’t respond, hyper-focusing on the dogs in front of her and keeping her son out of view from the other woman. “Just a few days ago, he was in Pennsylvania. Apparently shot yet another man, FBI said the man got away, but you know I think?” No response, not yet at least, “I think he killed Robert Sheen, and that ‘black-out’ the FBI is insisting on was Will Graham disposing of the body.”

Finally, Molly snaps, spinning around and turning towards Freddie as she yells, “you got some fuckin’ gall to say that shit in front of my son.”

“I’m not the one cussing.”

“Will isn’t here, so unless you want me to call the cops on you for trespassing, you’d better be on the next flight back to Virginia.”

“It’s a public beach,” Freddie replies, unbothered by Molly’s outburst. She was, understandably, quite protective of her husband, especially as he was dragged through the mud on her website years ago. “Sad to think I just missed him after such a long flight, can I at least know when he’ll be back?”

Still annoyed, Molly turns around and continues the other way back to her house, knowing that she can only call for trespassing if Freddie dared to cross their property line. “He’ll be gone for the entire day, so leave us alone.”

Freddie stops then, taking that in and connecting it to everything that she currently knows about Will, “he just got back, why would he take off for an entire day?”

“None of your business,” Molly increases her steps, Wally keeping up with her with ease as they make it to their property line. She locks the porch fence behind her, keeping her gaze on Freddie daring her to even try and attempt to cross it. “Take the dogs inside, Wally.”

Freddie doesn’t attempt to cross, continuing to stand there with a smirk on her face and a raised brow as Wally quietly brings the dogs in. Molly takes out of cellphone, “really small community we have, you’re going to meet one of my good friends who happens to be a cop.”

"I mean, the only place that Will goes around here that would take an entire day would be to go to the hospital. Get a refill prescription from his psychiatrist."

Shocked, Molly stills, "How the hell are you getting that info?"

"I keep tabs on Will Graham, he's practically click-bait personified," Freddie smiles, continuing: "except, you know, when I dug around. Doesn't seem like Will has gone to see the good doctor for nearly two years now."

Molly's phone pings with a text notification, keeping her eyes on Freddie she ignores it for the moment. "You got two minutes to leave or I'm calling the cops for trespassing. See who he believes."

Freddie puts her hands up in a mocking surrender and backs away, "you know how to reach me if you got questions."

"Fuck off," Molly replies, turning her attention to the text message from her husband, telling her that he got a pay-as-you-go phone for the time being. When she looks back up from her phone, Freddie is gone. But what she had said before lingered, desperately hoping that Freddie was lying about what her husband supposedly  _doesn't do_  in Miami.

The phone he had picked up at a KMart was a crappy brick of a phone - nothing fancy, he never did desire the latest and greatest smart phones after all, he just needed something to call and briefly use the internet on at the most. It was Wally that wanted the apps and games on them, draining his battery from hell to back.

Hannibal was interested in the phone, as he watched through Will as he texted something to his wife before returning to the main screen on the cellphone. Will shoves it into his pocket, tossing the box and start-up instructions into the trash, climbing into the car to continue the drive up to Miami.

It was a three hour drive taking the US-1 up to Miami, something that Will certainly didn’t want to do after the constant driving he did only days before. But unlike the stress of locating a serial killer, the stress of not having his suppressants could ruin his life forever.

He was, after all, a beta to everyone besides his drug dealer and his mate. The only others who knew, but never had contact with was the surgeon who sewed him back up and noticed the extra organs inside of his abdomen – it had been a fluke of chance that he had found a doctor that took the patient confidentiality agreement to heart and didn’t absolutely destroy his life by outing him over a uterus found inside of him. That fact that he had to feel grateful for that made it ever more frustrating at his status in the world.

The long bridge that connected the Key islands to the main land of Florida went on for miles and miles, leaving Will with nothing more than the radio and his own thoughts. The unsettling awareness that something else was inside him, different from the feeling of Garrett Jacob Hobbs. It was not the feeling of sharing his mind, but an intrusion or something watching his movements. Something entirely Other. Occasionally a thought would intrude his mind, one that he was not sure was himself or the mirroring he had briefly done with the alpha Robert when he stepped inside his thought patterns.

And now in the silence, he was more than aware of other mind desperately trying to communicate in the dullness of the drive. Practice had kept Will aware to build walls within his mind to separate the thoughts of himself and the thoughts of the serial killers he would empathize. It was all to easy to slip into their thought patterns and loose himself like he had done before. Even with the forts in his skull, it was still a battle to keep himself separate, to know who exactly which thoughts were entirely his own.

This drive, without being able to make contact with his host – at least not yet – was excruciating. At least Will getting the cellphone and messing around with it was interesting, but as they continue the drive to Miami it was basically nothing more than the expanse of the ocean surrounding them and the music on the radio to occupy their time. While nicer than being trapped in the underworld, he was still extremely hungry and needed something  _human_  soon. The po'boy that Will had eaten last night, while it was something, it just simply wasn't enough to sate him.

Will also seemed to like the noise that was currently being belted out of the car radio, and even though Hannibal was well aware of the musicians of the 1950s, he preferred to continue to listen to the classics, attending concerts and operas in his spare time when he wasn’t practicing medicine. The music was similar to the blues and rock styles of the 1950s, but for the most part Hannibal disliked the what the station was calling “classic rock of the 80s”.

When that station went to commercial, Hannibal was forced to listen to various jingles advertising floor carpeting companies and new cars for sale since his host seemed to completely blank it out, not realizing that the music had faded and commercials had replaced it. Noticing that Will was slowly loosing focus on his surroundings, the dullness of the road bringing him to a lull, Hannibal pushes his hand forward and changes the radio station until it landed on a classic music station that was far more static than anything else – but it was a hell of a lot more preferable to the garbage Will was listening to.

That little stunt had pushed him back again, Will snapping to attention from the sudden movements his body was making without his knowledge. The attempt was ultimately useless as Will sets the radio back to the same station as before.

* * *

The thought that Freddie Lounds had planted inside her mind bugged her well into the afternoon, as she finally picks up the phone and dials the old number she had stored for Dr. Brennan. A man's voice answers, "Dr. Brennan's office."

"Hi, yeah, I was wondering if you could verify if my husband showed up? He doesn't have a phone so," kind of true, she tacks that on.

The man pauses, "We're not allowed to talk about patients here, even about something like that. I'm sorry, ma'am."

"It's nothing confidential, I just needed to know if he arrived safely is all."

Another pause, then: "I'm sorry. I can't discuss that with you, have a good day."

"Yeah, bye..." she hangs up, tossing her cellphone as she looks around their shared master bedroom. Tucked in the back of the closet was an old box that held all of their medical records, bills, and tax returns. Keeping any and all documentation, especially after she had to deal with the nightmare of insurance companies in her previous husband's cancer treatments. 

“Mom?” Wally asks, stepping into the door frame and watching as his mom huddles over a box of old paperwork.

She doesn’t bother to look up as she continues to rifle through old papers, “what is it hon?”

“Is this about what that girl said?”

That grabs her attention, and finally Molly lifts her head and takes in her son: worried about what he had overheard from that damn Freddie Lounds. “No, no. Just ignore what she said, she makes her life work off lies.”

“That Will is a psychopath?”

Molly freezes, “you read that?”

“Yeah, mom. I’m not stupid, I know how to use the internet. A lot of stuff pops up for Will, the kids at school mentioned it before too.”

“Well, just ignore it. Your step-dad has been through a lot with being a police officer and with the FBI, it makes him a very easy target for people to make lies about because of what he does.”

Wally stands there for another moment, unsure of what to say, "we're still going on the boat this weekend right?"

Molly nods and smiles, "yeah, of course. Why would you think we wouldn't?"

Her child shrugs, turning back around to return to his bedroom. Molly watches as he leaves, and when she hears the noise of the video games she settles onto the master bedroom, spreading a bunch of documents from the health insurance billing from the past two years.

* * *

His drug dealer, Ken Smith and his partner Adrian Ortega, were the only other people who knew that Will was an omega aside from the surgeon. An alpha who was notoriously known for his love of omegas, particularly male ones, it had seemed to be a risk to get in contact with someone who had all but practically pimped them out.

But the risk was worth it, when Will first contacted him the first time. It was Adrian, a male omega who was working the streets that Will spoke with first – asking after suppressants. An awkward meeting at first, Adrian expecting another John but instead meeting an another male omega who insistence on acting the part of a beta. However, Adrian was quick to claim a friendship with Will, with so few male omegas as there were he had opened his arms to Will, allowing him into their home to buy the necessary drugs.

Adrian was nice, understanding, and even if Kenny was a bit of a dick Will could rely on Adrian to be there to support him. He opens the door to their small little house tucked away in the Miami suburbs with a smile, “Will!”

“Hey,” he smiles back, forcing it. He’s not really in the mood for small chat even if Adrian was, “Kenny in?”

“Yeah, on his Xbox,” Adrian opens the door wider and motions for him to enter. Will takes a good look at his outfit: tonight he wasn’t working the corner and was dressed to be comfortable for his alpha who tended to like his omegas to be dressed more feminine than masculine. Will takes notice of the ‘Juicy’ written on his pink shorts and hairless legs that he never needed to shave.

Omegas didn’t grow much body hair, if at all, but Will being on suppressants his entire life has left him with a normal amount for a grown beta. Thick stubble on his face that, if he shaved, would appear as a five o’clock shadow towards the end of the day.

They enter the living room, Kenny currently playing the same game that his son loved to play, some shooter war game set in WWII. Will was never interested in it himself but watches as Adrian sits down and motions for him to follow, “Will is here, Kenny.”

Kenny doesn’t look up from his game, just nodding, “yeah, I’ll be with him in a moment. Get him some drinks or something babe.”

Adrian crosses his legs, the low cut shirt drooping on his shoulders, “you want anything to drink? Eat?”

“Water’s fine.”

Will is left alone, awkwardly sitting in Kenny’s living room as Adrian leaves. There’s rustling in the kitchen, the sound of water, and only a few moments later a glass of water is being nudged into his hands. Not knowing what else to do or talk about with his drug dealer’s boyfriend, he turns his attention to the glass of water, awkwardly taking a sip.

“You’re already out of those suppressants?” Adrian inquires, "you should've had a month left."

“Accidentally lost them during a trip,” Will says, not exactly a lie.

Kenny speaks up after that, “yeah, don’t know why you take ‘em but I make good money off of you so,” he pauses the game and stands up, looking at the two omegas on the couch. One who was very secure in his femininity even if the rest of the world hated him for it, and the other desperately trying to blend into masculinity no matter what cost. “Six hundred for the three month supply.”

“Six hundred now?” He had pulled only three hundred from the ATM near the KMart.

Kenny nods, “they’re a pain in the ass to get and I know you too well at this point that I know you’re not gonna go to another dealer. You hate people knowing what you really are which,” he places the palm of his hand on Will’s cheek and smiles, “is a damn shame. Love male omegas.”

“Hey,  your attention is needed over here,” Adrian tisks, but a playful smile crosses his face as his alpha sits next to him and places his hand on the crook of his omega's naked knee.

The alpha scents the air, taking notice of Will’s already changing scent, “yeah, I can tell you skipped a dose. It’s not much, but it’s there.” Kenny rests his foot on the coffee table before him, kicking off a bunch of trash and soda cans on the floor – uncaring, “then again, I know what I was looking for. You could probably go another day before you really need it.

Will ignores it, wanting to get this over with, “I only pulled three hundred…two hundred for one of the pill bottles now and I’ll get you the rest after.”

“Yeah, sure. Lemme go get ‘em,” he replies, standing up and heading towards the stairs as Will takes the bills out of his wallet.

Adrian keeps his eyes on Will, interested, “not that I’m complaining cause that money buys me a nice dinner, but how come you take these things?” He takes the money from Will and tucks it away into the band of his sleep shorts, “’Cause you know I’m the one that snags them from random doctors for you and every time they give me the same speech of how it’s only supposed to be temporary. Will fuck you up if you take them longer than needed.”

“I’m married to someone who thinks I’m a beta. I don’t know how she’d react if…she found out.”

“She loves you right?”

Will nods, avoiding his gaze.

“Then she should accept you as you are. If not, find you someone like Kenny.”

“Kenny fetishizes male omegas, he doesn’t accept,” he pauses, realizing he’s said that out loud to Adrian – who is very much in love with his mate – “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

Adrian shrugs, “It’s fine. I get it. The way you see things is that male omegas will never be accepted. And when they are, that freaks you out.”

The sound of footsteps echo as Kenny steps down them, rounding the corner and plopping a container of pills in Will’s hand.

“He gave me the money,” Adrian takes out the wad of cash from his shorts and wiggles the bills in front of his mate, who immediately sits next to him once more and regards Will. Watching as the other omega immediately pops open the cap and takes a pill down with the glass of water. “Would you like to stay for lunch before you go and get the rest? I ordered pizza not to long ago, actually, thought you were the pizza guy but anyways.”

Having skipped breakfast and with it nearing noon, the hunger inside Will’s belly was growing but despite that nothing had sounded pleasing. Pizza was one of his favorite foods to get with Molly and Wally, making it a Friday night usual, but the sound of eating a slice makes his stomach churn. 

Hannibal had been watching with a cool detachment from this entire interaction, taking note of the other male omega and his dresswear and the sad excuse for an alpha that the omega had bonded with. A pathetic creature who spent more time playing  _video games_ and soda drinks that littered their dirty and unkempt living room.

Adrian was right, however, that Will had very little regard for his own gender. That finding someone who did appreciate them for who they were was impossible. Perhaps he wasn't approaching it the right way, but Hannibal forces Will up onto his feet, needing Will to get that pill out of system and see how beautiful an omega like him could be.

“ _Excuse me_ ,” Will feels himself say, his limbs carrying him to the bathroom in the corner of the hallway – lifting the toilet seat as his finger presses into his mouth.

Someone else in control of his body, Will immediately he throws up into the toilet. He only regains control once more just in time to experience that pain of bile and the pill he had just swallowed empty out inside the bowl.

He pulls back, his chest still fluttering from the pain of throwing up, sitting against his drug dealer’s bathroom wall. It all had happened so quickly, wondering what the hell just happened that his own body moved on its own accord and threw up the pill he desperately needed. Will peers into the bowl as he is about to flush it down and notices the white little pill, not even remotely digested. His hands move again, on their own, as it pulls out the pills and shakes it in front of him.

In control for now, Hannibal looks at Will through the mirror and smiles through Will’s mouth, “ _take another and I’ll force you to throw it up again.”_

Will’s eyes grow large as he watches himself say something he didn’t, and he drops the pills. He forces the bathroom door open and starts towards their front door. “Will?” Adrian calls after him, pulling himself up from the couch at Will’s sudden movements. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m…I’m gonna go now.” He doesn’t even wait for Adrian’s response as he shuts their front door and immediately makes it for his car, his hands shaking as he pulls out the car keys.

Pulling out of the neighborhood, he drives for almost an hour until he finally calms down. Staring at his reflection in the rear view mirror and parked in the lot next to the Miami Beach, he takes in a deep breath. He had just dropped two hundred dollars on suppressant pills that he didn’t even keep. He bangs his forehead against the arch of the steering wheel, glaring at the odometer.

He sits there for another moment, trying to grasp what his panic-riddled mind had just gone through, tracing through his memories from the black-out to the airport yesterday. Will pulls out his wallet once more and takes out a business card for a doctor he never remembered meeting.  _He was rude._  Was all the voice inside his mind supplied.

Will pulls out his cellphone and googles the doctor’s name, wondering if a picture would help jog the memory of someone he had met and gotten the business card from. There was a picture but his face was unfamiliar, he continued to look through the results finding that there was a conference in Virginia that he had spoken at only a day before Will had gotten on the airplane.

He must have met him at some point in the airport, but besides falling asleep there was no memory of him meeting anyone there except for the flight attendant. Will frowns, closing the browser and staring back into the beach.

Molly wouldn’t be able to smell the difference in his body, but that was not a long-term plan. Eventually others will find out and she would as well. Male omegas, despite Adrian’s insistence, were not welcome on this Earth. Just thinking of how Adrian was stuck with a shitty alpha who pimped him out as well as other omegas to random Johns for cash just proved the point. There were very little options for him, the world seeing him useful only for sex.

That and he had no fuckin’ clue how to even regard himself as an omega, he had never even experienced a heat let alone the stares that he knew he would get from the alphas would would be able to scent him.

His stomach growls as the hunger grows, he had skipped too many meals the last one being the underwhelming po’ boy almost twenty-four hours ago. Will shifts the car into reverse and starts driving, needing something with protein. Blood. That much he knew and he kept driving South nearing the US-1 until he passes by a nearly ran down biker bar. Almost nearing the evening, he had stayed out way too long for a simple appointment with a psychiatrist. 

A group of neo-Nazis hanging out at the entrance catches his attention, the well-hidden white supremacy symbols on their leather jackets – unknown to the majority of the population but as an FBI profiler he recognized them immediately. The recognition of the symbol seems to pull at the Other inside his mind, the feeling of deep hatred and anger blooming within his chest.

That forced him to stop and park his car near the rows of motorcycles.  He glances at them in the corner of his eyes as he feels his body pulls the keys out of the ignition. The car door opens and he’s out and inside the bar before he knows it, taking in the grungy appearance of the bar.

It was not a place Hannibal would ever be caught dead in, and he’s sure by the tiny glimmer of Will’s feelings seeping out that its not one that he would be either. Will settles at the bar, a female beta wearing a too-tight white tank top practically avoiding him as she hurries to refill a batch of beer. As he waits for her to finish, Will notices the group of neo-Nazis entering the bar, taking up the space near the arcade game that had been there since the 1980s.

“What can I get for you?” She finally asks, her voice nearly drowned out by the loud music the overhead speakers blare.

“Just a beer, doesn’t matter which,” he replies.

She gives him one of the most expensive, placing it down with a napkin underneath, “seventeen dollars.”

Already he had wasted two hundred today, and without much emotion he Will hands a twenty over to her, “keep the change.” He sips on his beer, hyper aware of where the neo-Nazis are moving around. 

It's an hour of keeping an eye on them, several alcoholic drinks inside of him - needing and wanting to just loose himself after such a stressful and shitty week. After Will orders a fourth beer, one of them, an alpha, slips behind him as he reaches the bar to order a beer himself. Will keeps his attention on his drink, but as the alpha brushes up against him the man scents him. As the bartender hands him the beer, he settles down at the bar stool, staring at Will, “you smell kinda like an omega. Faint as hell,” the man notices the wedding band on Will’s finger, “she must rub up against you to be smelling like that. She smells good, think we could share,” his laugh is even more disgusting than his joke as Will feels his skin crawl.

“My wife’s a beta,” he can feel himself saying, turning his face to stare down the alpha, challenging him. Will could feel it, this was not the other that has intruded his mind. This was him, the drunkenness, the hunger, the stress, and anger boiling up inside and reaching a point where he’s challenging an unknown alpha – practically outing himself.

The alpha returns his stare, his mouth crooking upwards in a disgusting smile, “didn’t know male omegas had fuckin’ balls. Though, you keep acting like that you’re not gonna have any.”

The bartender doesn’t pay any attention to the growing tension between the omega and the alpha, too busy filling up another order and serving a basket of fries to someone in the far corner. The alpha waves to his gang, the other alphas surrounding them, curious as to why they were called out.

“This omega here wants to come back with us, show him a good time.”

At the notion that a male omega was right in front of them, the other alphas all began to chatter among themselves, gleefully looking forward to an easy target tonight.

Will didn’t even get to sip his beer as the gang all but pushes him outside the back alley, seven alphas and one omega, surrounded by a dumpster and trash. Even as the months pressed into summer, it was almost dark outside, a death sentence for an omega to find themselves in with a bunch of kill-happy alphas.

“You know what I like about this place?” The alpha asks Will as he stares him down.

Will stares back, arching his face, the alpha beneath him even if the man was physically taller, “what?”

“No cameras.”

Another alpha laughs behind him, “not that it matters, for a male omega no cop would care.”

“ _And if it was seven dead alphas?_ ” The other voice says, joining Will in this challenge.

That gets all of them riled up, only a few of the alphas taking out a knife while the others didn’t find it necessary for what they assumed was a weak omega before them.

The first alpha smirks, stepping forward and pulls Will’s head back, shoving him against the wall. With a knife in his hand, he waves it in front of Will’s face, before applying pressure against the crook of his neck, “move or scream and I’ll slit your fuck throat.”

“Hurry up, I wanna-“

“Shut the fuck up,” the alpha turns and yells at the biker across the alley. He turns his attention back to Will, “stupid as hell male omega, you think we would just let you go when you landed on our laps like that?”

Will smiles, the other’s voice melding with his as both of their thoughts mingle together, both needing to  _eat_ , “ _I was planning on that, I’m famished and what better meal than a bunch of Nazis?”_

“What?” Taken aback, the alpha blinks, not expecting that answer.

Before either Will or the alpha knew it, Will’s hand tore into the alpha’s abdomen, the squelch of the intestines and warm blood spilling out on the filthy concrete below. At first the other alphas thought it was the omega who was being gutted as they laugh and jeer at the gore – but when their leader falls to the ground with the omega standing there with blood covering his arm up to his elbow they fall silent and freeze.

Finally breaking out of the shock that an omega had killed their gang leader, three other neo-Nazis start forward, the ones with the knives going in to try and stab at Will – but the blades are quickly knocked out of their hands as Will and the being inside tear at the Nazi’s necks, or tugging out their hearts, the splatter of blood staining the concrete and bricks of an alleyway.

With three left, two of them standing together as one pulls out a gun. The gunshot rattles and echos within the alleyway, shooting Will straight in the head. The impact had jolted his head backwards, but he pulls himself forward, barring with sharp teeth. His eyes complete white, his arms black as claws protrude where his flesh used to be.

"What the fu-" wide-eyed, the neo-Nazi stares at the gunshot wound in Will's head that quickly repairs itself as if it had never been there. With a slashed throat, the one with the gun crumples to the ground. The one beside him, frozen in shock, has his head knocked against the brick wall, crushing his skull, blood and brain matter oozing out from the pressure as the dead body slides down.

Six dead bodies surround Will, as he is covered in head to toe gore, his breath not even hitching from exhaustion as he turns and glares at the last Nazi who is cowering and shaking behind the dumpster. With an inhuman force, Hannibal lifts his leg and kicks the dumpster away leaving the Nazi exposed, “please, don’t kill…me…” the man gasps out below, stuttering, “I just joined…for fun.”

“ _Do you believe genocide to be fun?”  Hannibal_  asks through Will. Will could feel his absolute anger and hatred, lets it rush over his own emotions, letting whoever the hell is in control take over from the power Will feels in proxy. “ _Killing my sister to be **fun**?”_

The neo-Nazi gasps as black claws surround his neck, pulling him up into the air without struggle, the neck quickly snapping under his strength.

Hannibal quickly tosses him away as if he were garbage and looks around at the carnage. He had gotten very messy in his time away, he realizes. He pulls his hands up, staring at the black claws that had once been tanned human flesh, noticing the amount of blood that he had covered his host in during the slaughter.

He picks up the heart from one of the corpses, still fresh and warm from only being killed moments ago, and tears into the flesh with sharp fangs. The first taste of human flesh bursting in his mouth, after decades of forced starvation in the underworld sent Hannibal and Will into an unconscious frenzy as their hands tore into the warm carcasses, pulling and devouring the organs, uncaring at this time to even bother to cook and shape them into culinary art.

Mouth smeared with fresh red blood, Will pulls himself into consciousness as he stands up and wipes his mouth, disoriented. Glancing at his hands he notices them to be human once more, wondering if he had just fallen into a very weird and very lucid dream. Stepping backwards, something squishy and wet beneath him grabs his attention.

Looking down, he stares at a large intestine, followed by more organs, and then the remains of several torn bodies that had once been alive and put together.

The realization hits as the sound of a car passing the street near the alleyway breaks him out of the daze. Still shaking, he grabs a cardboard box from the dumpster and rips it into a flat piece. He rounds the corner of the bar that only minutes ago he had walked into – several witnesses there, the fucking bartender would vouch that he had walked out with those neo-Nazis into the alley. The music had been so loud that the people inside didn't even hear the gunshot that...Will presses his finger against his head, remembering that he had been shot there but it was nothing but smooth flesh and hair there.

Trying to keep himself composed and get the fuck away from whatever the hell just happened, he takes quick notice for anyone that was outside in the parking lot. With no one there, Will sprints to his car, settling the cardboard onto his car seat to prevent the blood on his pants from staining the chair, and shifts the car into reverse, slamming on the gas, his car quickly swerves backwards.

He’s out on the US-1 again, driving back home, his mind running a mile a minute when he slams on the break with an exasperated “ _fuck!_ ” Coming to a quick halt in the shoulder of the interstate, the car behind him honks as they pass. Uncaring about  _traffic issues_ , Will runs his fingers through his hair, stressed, he continues his litany of cuss words in the shoulder of the highway. He just killed several people, if his current state of mind could even be trusted. 

Will tugs the rear-view mirror to look at himself, still covered in now-dried blood. His mouth, shirt, hands…it was all covered.  Even with the cardboard he had pulled from the dumpster, he’s sure he had gotten it on his car upholstery too.

He stares at his reflection, breathing heavily, unsure if he’s losing his god damn mind, “someone else in there, cause I sure as shit don’t have a sister.” No response, not even the tug at the fort in his mind, it was relatively quiet after everything he had just been through. “Really? You make me kill seven people and then you just leave? I’m a fucking forensic scientist, probably loads of fucking leads pointing directly to me,” frustrated, he slams his palm on the dashboard of his car, “I’m losing it…I’m talking to myself and I’m losing it.”

It’s quiet for several more moments before Will shifts his car back into drive, merging back onto the road as he figures out what the hell to do now. Where to get rid of the clothes and where to find new ones…he turns on the radio back onto the classic rock station in spite of the other being's current silence.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal meet face to face while Will discards evidence. Molly finds out that Will has been buying drugs instead of seeing his therapist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit earlier update cause i gotta go to a graduation party tomorrow, so i hope y'all enjoy!!!
> 
> not beta'd, all mistakes are my own. constructive criticism is welcome.
> 
> ALSO please let me know in the comments if y'all are okay with smut between will and molly. i kinda was going to write it in this chapter but i was like mmmm i didn't warn for that in advanced and i don't wanna piss anyone off if they don't care for m/f sex. let me know below!

He was unsure of what to say to the human, Hannibal had admittedly lost control at the sight of white supremacists from the very same terrorist group that had killed his sister and caused him to escape to America in the 1940s.

Of all the hosts he had been in, either beta or alpha, there was never a need to communicate with the humans that had previously resided in their own flesh. All of them had been relatively easy to take over, right at the moment of possession Hannibal had control of the body and mind but Will Graham, on the other hand, was complicated. There were barriers to this human's mind.

For several moments when they had been in that alley way fight, it had felt as though they were one in the same, a feeling he had never felt before within a body. It was as if Will Graham was just as angry over spotting them off the side of the road as he was, and he can’t quite recall who’s idea it was to park the car and decide that they were going to devoured right then and there.

He was unsure for the first time in several decades about how to proceed. For years he had simply shed the human’s previous life, all their contacts and family members, and left to do his own thing. He’d attend universities, parties, concerts, and operas but sitting here and letting the host take the wheel was something he had never quite done.

Will’s hands were covered in flaky dry blood, Hannibal notices as Will gently tugs the steering wheel into another lane, pulling off into an exit off the freeway. At some point he had tugged off his over-shirt and shoved it into a plastic bag that had been tucked away in the backseat for road-trip trash from Wally. It was beyond saving, the thing had been coated in a spray of blood.

The roads were no longer busy as night had fallen, the beach was technically closed but he knew the area well enough that this beach didn’t have any security patrol on staff. Will pulls his car into one of the parking lots for the beaches, grabbing the bloodied shirt that was in the plastic garbage bag, and looked himself over before opening the door: there were splatters of blood still but most was on his skin.

Will takes a lighter from the glove box and pockets it. He had chosen this beach for its lack of modernized updates, very few security cameras, and the ones that did exist were inside the stores to monitor theft. The sand kicks up into his shoes as he crosses the beach toward a trash can that was settled near the boardwalk – all the shops were closed and there were no security cameras pointed at this direction: they were all pointed near store fronts and the parking lot instead.  

Taking the lighter out, he pulls the rest of his clothes off, letting his jeans and shoes join the rest of the bloodied clothes in the trash can. He sets the clothes on fire, the rest of the trash inside acting as a great feeding source, and the fire is quick to consume the bloodied clothing. Will then folds his undershirt and boxers, placing them off to the side as he wades into the cold water. His feet shifting in the sand that pulls underneath the soft waves.

It’s too dark to see, only the moon hanging in the blackened sky was visible, but he can feel the blood rolling off his body, the dried crusts tugging away into the rolling sea. There was blood that had dried in his scalp, his own from the gunshot wound that had mended itself the second the bullet entered. He wonders then, if the bullet was still lodged in there or if –  _the bullet is not in your brain, no._

“Oh, now you want to talk?” Will says to the chill air, wading in further from the shore and letting the salty water wash over his skin in soft waves. He rubs his hands over his jaw, tense and exasperated, “you want to explain what the fuck happened back there?”

No answer. Again.

“Yeah? Fuck you,” Will mutters out dipping himself under the water, his hands tugging through a glob of seaweed. Underneath the water, he opens his eyes the seawater a sharp sting before his body quickly adjusts. Nothing is visible, just the pure dark expanse of an ocean at night. Then, he pulls back up into the air, taking a deep breath and deeming himself clean enough of blood to step out of the ocean.

With no towel, Will rests himself on the sand, laying down as he looks up into the night sky. This has all got to be some fucked up dream, there’s no other explanation of it. Vivid as hell, but a dream nonetheless.

This entire trip was for nothing, Will thinks, two hundred dollars down the drain without any pills to show for it. Molly would question him about that, there weren’t many excuses he could think of, nor of any excuses as why he stayed in Miami later than he had to. Eventually she’d find out, press on the matter, he groans as he thinks about what her reaction would be like.

Disgust, perhaps. Male omegas were stereotyped so heavily, Adrian might have been a solid stereotype of their sex but not all of them were as accepting of their feminine aspects. Will had certainly beaten that out of him in his youth, not even allowing the color of pink to enter his wardrobe as he grew up - only allowing pink back in his wardrobe now since he was seen as a beta from everyone around him. He thinks about what Adrian would say about that one, toxic masculinity perhaps, but for Will it was survival. Shedding anything that could possibly point to him as an omega had allowed him to gain a career in the police department, the FBI, and now as a boat repairman – careers filled with alphas who would most likely harassed him at the first sign anything was off.

He stares into the stars above him, scintillating from the warm atmospheric pressure in the sky as he wonders into those deep thoughts about Molly, his gender. Then, he blinks and the stars have all disappeared – leaving a dark black night sky void of anything resembling lights.

Soft footsteps approach him, a crack of a twig and the crunch of leaves, and finds himself on the dark forest floor.

He sits up, his breathe hitching as he stares up into a stranger’s face looking down at his naked body. Will’s eyes widen as he covers himself, looking around for his clothes.

“Your clothes are on Earth, Will,” the stranger says. His voice smooth and calm, much like the one that had came out of Will’s mouth only hours prior in the mirror. The man wore a dark suit, one that was tailored and fit his body beautifully, his face full of sharp features with heavy-lidded eyes that pierced through Will as he stares down at the naked man before him. “Only what is on you at the moment is allowed here.”

“Here?” Will blinks, one second he was laying on soft sand, another a hard cold ground with a twig poking into his back. He keeps his hand over his dick, any semblance of privacy, unwilling to stand up for his ass to be exposed.

The man offers a hand, a silent request that Will should take it, “a sort of manifestation of my mind, however it is also another plane of reality.” With one hand still covering himself, Will takes the man’s hand and he helps him up, “my name is Hannibal Lecter.”

As Will stands up, there is a shift of fabric on his skin. He stumbles backwards, confused from the sudden cloth on his body – a well-tailored suit much like Hannibal’s, a style like one from the 1950s.

“You’ll be clothed here but when you wake up you won’t be, objects can come in but cannot leave.”

There’s a crunch of leaves under his new dress shoes, “I’ve been here before.”

“Yes.”

“There was a gun…and my cellphone,” Will supplies, eyes searching for any sign of them.

Hannibal takes both out and offers them, “I’m afraid the cellphone died as you had no charger for it when it fell.” Hannibal regards it, flipping it around in his palm, “I’ve always loved the technology you humans come up with, the last time I was here on Earth they used rotary phones. Always hated having to spin it around to get to a new number, you can just click the numbers on this...”

Will didn’t even know where to even begin, from the detached way he referred to humans or the reference to his last time on Earth.

Then, his attention shifts to the handgun, and with a smile, “the gun is useless as well.”

“What are you?”  Will stares at him, distrusting of the man’s entire demeaner. “The other voice in my head?”

Hannibal starts forward, “follow me.” Unsure of what else to do, Will does and follows Hannibal through the thickness of the forest as Hannibal continues, “I’m a wendigo.”

Rough laughter erupts from Will, and he scoffs.

“Is that funny to you?” Hannibal pauses, turning around from his path to regard the man behind him.

Will’s smile falls as he looks up at the man, “you’re serious.”

“Very,” he replies, keeping his face forward as they continue down the path, “I was born a wendigo thousands of years ago. I have been exorcised many times and summoned back an equal amount, and now,” he stops in front of a large castle that towers above, “I’m in possession of you, Will Graham.”

“I’m possessed?”

“Yes.”

Will places his hands on the stair railing leading up to the castle’s large doors, staring up at Hannibal as he ascends, “this is a very strange dream.”

The doors swing open without Hannibal ever laying a hand on the handles, exposing Will to a large foyer typically styled in 1800s fashion. Large paintings adorn the walls, with a rather small but expensive chandelier hanging from the ceiling. As Will softly enters, his shoes settling on a plush swirl-pattern rug beneath him, Hannibal offers his hand, “your coat.”

Will shakes it off, and Hannibal hangs it up on a coat hanger beside the door. It closes automatically behind them as Hannibal continues down the hall and into an elegant kitchen – although not modern in any shape or form, “you aren’t dreaming,” Hannibal replies, steering himself back onto that branch of conversation, “I was offered two sacrifices and you were the nearest human life in the vicinity. Therefore,” he takes out a cup of coffee and hands it to Will, “possessed.”

Will takes the coffee, dumbfounded at the entire happenings before him. He just wanted to help on a case, go back home, enjoy the boat with his wife and step-kid. Wide-eyed, he just holds the coffee in his hands, not making any movement to drink it. Hannibal pulls out a cup for himself, gently sipping on it.

“The two sacrifices?”

Hannibal nods, swallowing his coffee he continues: “yes, I believe that one requires a virgin and one who isn’t. Witchcraft was never quite a hobby of mine, so my memory might be a little off on that. But you should know all that since you were the one who summoned me.”

He thinks back on that night when Robert Sheen has apparently summoned a demon, the ranting about a deal, wanting to change himself. “Robert Sheen was the man who did summon you, I was just in the cross-fire of it all.”

“Ah, I was wondering why you seemed so confused,” Hannibal replies, “although I’ve never had to deal with the thoughts and emotions of my hosts before you, I’m not sure what I expected.”

Will ignores that, pressing into the aspect he was truly interested in. If Robert Sheen was correct in summoning a demon, then perhaps a deal  _could_  be struck, and Will wouldn’t have to deal with Molly finding out he was an omega – if he was able to become a beta. “That night, Robert said he wanted to summon a demon to make him an alpha, he was a beta, is there truth to that?”

The wendigo before him softly smiles, a quiet laugh escaping his lips, “I’m not a genie. So no.” Hannibal watches Will’s features: disappointment. “Why would you want to become a beta, Will?” He inquires, watching the minut shifts in Will’s body as he is read so easily.

“Are you wendigos like us? With alphas, omegas...?”

“It’s wendigoag,” he corrects, a slight annoyance in his tone, “and yes, we are. Are you not able to tell? Your suppressants should be wearing off and even here we’re able to scent each other.”

Will settles himself onto one of the bar stools in the kitchen, avoiding the wendigo’s gaze and opting instead to stare at the 1950s style refrigerator in front of him, “I guess, I’m not sure. I’ve always guessed what gender people were or I was told, I don’t even know what alphas smell like.”

“What do I smell like?”

He shrugs, a red flush spreading over his cheeks at such a personal question. He had been so sidetracked from the revelation that he was in another  _plane of reality_  that he hadn’t stopped to take notice, it was hard to avoid now that Hannibal had mentioned it. It was a soft scent, barely there from the suppressants still in Will’s system, but he could take notes of something that resembled…cedar wood, was the closet Will could think of. “I’m not sure…I don’t really think of scents like that. Describing them.”

“It’s a wonder those alphas from tonight were able to scent you like that, it’s barely there and I have a far more powerful nose than humans,” Hannibal rounds the corner of the kitchen’s bar and settles closer to Will, “it’s a delightful scent, Will. One that you shouldn’t mask with those pills.”

Will’s gaze quickly shifts away from the refrigerator and stares into Hannibal’s eyes, “that  _delightful scent_ would ruin my life, Mr. Lecter.”

“Dr. Lecter,” he corrects once more.

That seems to get the human before him to snap, “fuck off, take me back to…Earth.” Will starts towards the foyer, and Hannibal could barely hear: “fucking doctorate probably isn’t even valid anymore,” coming from the omega as he stormed out.

Will grabs his over coat out of a need for some sort of comfort blanket and distraction, huffing he turns around and pulls it over his body as Hannibal suddenly appears before him, eyes darker, the embodiment of a predator’s gaze. Will flinches away when Hannibal reaches out, and places his hand on the crook of his jaw, smiling, “you have quite the mouth on you, Will.”

“Yeah, and it will never be yours,” Will responds, staring at the alpha’s mouth before looking away to stare at the door, “let me go.”

If anything that seems to perk up more interest in the demon before him, and he shifts closer to Will’s body, staring down at the omega with a look of hunger and an unwavering interest, “when I possessed humans before you, Will, they were quite easy to gain control of.” His thumb gently rubs against the facial hair of Will’s jaw, it had grown longer over the course of the day, and Hannibal finds himself enjoying the feeling of the human’s coarse beard under the pad of his thumb, “you, however, are not. I find myself struggling to gain control of your body. I’m curious about you.”

There’s very little Will can think to say to respond to that, his mouth just parts, his breath hitching from the predator before him. Trapped between the wall and a wendigo, he can barely remember what that was, the only memory in his mind based off a video game that Wally had played. Will tries to grasp his thoughts on that memory, Molly finding out the rating of the game and returning it, Wally mad about not being able to finish it and kill the wendigoag…Will hadn’t paid much attention to the conversation then. He had deemed it an issue between him and his mother, but he did remember Wally mentioning them eating human flesh.

With that in mind, Will finally breaks the growing silence between the human and demon, “when you possess humans, you have to eat other humans?”

“Yes,” Hannibal replies, simple and to the point, “when you’re possessed, you are a wendigo as well.”

Will stiffens at that, “what-“

A smile grows on Hannibal’s lips, he pulls back and looks over the human who is still practically glued to the wall from trying to get away from him, “nothing sounds appetizing does it?”

Will thinks back on the pancakes from this morning, how hungry he was and how desperately Will had wanted something to eat and calm that hunger – but pushing it aside. The mention of pizza from Adrian, even the po’boy from last night sounded repulsive. Nothing sounds appetizing, “except human flesh,” Will says out loud as it dawns on him.

Those alphas he and Hannibal had killed, that was the only thing to satiate that burning hunger. Will gags and bends over, retching onto the hallway rug.

Hannibal steps backwards and watches as Will throws up, and hums, “well, I learn something new every day.” In the expanse of his own plane of reality, he takes out a wet rag seemingly from no where and bends down to Will’s level.

Heavy breathing, and the taste of bile still on his tongue, Will gasps out a confused “what?” as he wipes the mess on his lips onto the sleeve of the suit jacket.

“Didn’t know you could throw up here,” Hannibal replies, kneeling as he brings a wet rag to Will’s face. Will takes it into his own hands and wipes his mouth, staring down into the place he had just thrown up only to notice that the vomit was completely gone.

As if he never thrown up at all, “how did-“

“I can do whatever I please here,” Hannibal replies, already following Will’s train of thought. He tucks one of Will’s curls behind his ear and smiles at the man before him, “don’t do that again. I have a feeling that you’re not going to be as willing to kill another being like we did tonight and I can’t have you starving away on me.”

“Why? Cause I’ll die?”

“No, because the hungrier you become the more animalistic you become. And while I’ve only met your wife and child briefly, I can see that you are rather fond of them-“

“I’m not gonna eat my god damn wife and kid.”

Hannibal nods, his eyebrows rising from Will’s protective nature over them, “yes, so the sooner you get over this killing and eating humans aspect of being a wendigo, the sooner you’ll be out there hunting for your next meal. I’ve already picked out one for you, the business card in your wallet.”

Out of habit, Will slaps his hand on the back pocket – only to find it empty. This suit was not his after-all, his belongings still on Earth…on a beach…where he had last left them unattended for either the ocean to carry it away or a stranger to stumble upon it. ”The hell do I get out of here?”

Hannibal places his hands on Will’s shoulder, a soft smile on his lips, “I’ll talk to you on Earth, it was nice meeting you Will Graham.”

He’s about to open his mouth to respond when he’s slammed back into reality, the soft sand underneath him and the roar of the ocean waves beside him. Will groans as he sits up, his body naked once more and covered in sand, tucked into crevices where sand shouldn’t be. He stands up, dazed from a dream? Another plane of reality? Hannibal’s mind? He doesn’t know, and pats himself off before grabbing his underwear and slipping them back on.

His undershirt is next, and then he grabs his keys, wallet, and cellphone. He flips the crappy burner phone open, it’s well after midnight now. The trashcan that he had set on fire with his bloodied clothes had turned into a soft blaze of ash, and Will is thankful as hell that no one was around to watch him walk back to his car wearing only a white undershirt and boxers.

Getting back onto the freeway, Will can’t help but think about the place he was just at. Sure, he could chalk it up to being a vivid nightmare as he has been doing, but that wouldn’t explain the amount of blood that was on his body. The taste of human blood still lingering in his mouth, the lack of appetite towards anything that wasn’t human flesh, it was all explained by the impossibility that he was currently possessed by a wendigo.

A fussy, arrogant, annoying wendigo who looks like the last time he was on Earth was the 1950s. Nearing Sugarloaf Key, Will groans softly, hoping that Molly is fast asleep and he can get a shower in without any questions about where the hell he has been.

He still hasn’t thought of any good excuses for her.

 _Sorry, Molly, I was just feeding off a bunch of neo-nazis at a bar because surprise, I’m apparently possessed by a demon and I’m a wendigo now._ He thinks to himself, the absolute absurdity of it all still not fully registering with him just yet.

Will parks the car, and sits there for several moments before he finally gathers the courage to go inside. The house is expectedly quiet, the only noise where the click of the dogs nails on the floor and their panting tongues as they come to greet Will at the front door. He silently shushes them as he softly makes his way upstairs.

Their bedroom is unlocked, and Will slides in, careful not to make a sound as he makes his way towards the bathroom. Molly always was a heavy sleeper, and as he closes the bathroom door behind him there’s no movement from the dark lump in the bed.

The shower is ran longer than he typically runs it for, needing to get the itchy sand and dried sea-salt off his skin, along with getting any residual dried blood off his body. It’s when the water turns cold that he finally shuts it off, and steps out onto the bathroom rug underneath his feet, staring at himself in the mirror – half blurry from the steam.

If he’s possessed, then Hannibal could see – Will notices a red blush forming on his cheeks as he realizes, covering himself up quickly with the towel. Paranoid in his own damn body.

He shuts off the lights as he opens the door, padding into the bedroom. Will pulls out a clean pair of boxers and a night shirt, slipping them on as he makes his way towards his bed. A quiet sigh of relief leaves his lips, the warmth of the blankets a godsend on his body. Grounding him back into a relatively normal life, something that was desperately needed after the day he had just experienced.

Molly shifts in her sleep, pulling herself closer to Will’s body and snuggles up against his chest. There won’t be an argument tonight, his wife was too sleepy for that, but come morning Will would need an excuse for what had happened today.

As he runs through various ideas in his head, sleep gently pulls him under.

The call of seagulls outside wakes him up, his eyebrows tensing, he shifts around and runs his hand over the surface of – the counter? Will blinks, taking in his surroundings: the kitchen. Before him was a controlled mess of varying ingredients and utensils.

“This is so good, Will,” Molly hums. Will turns and stares at her, both Molly and Wally sitting at their kitchen table. An egg omelet, sausage, and toast on their plates. Will stares down at the counter, realizing that there was a plate underneath him as well, it looked like something from a five-star restaurant not from…his own hands who could barely cook a proper fish filet.

Will takes his own plate and settles at the kitchen table. For once the food actually looked…good?

 _It will be tolerable when you’re not in need of human meat,_  Hannibal’s voice in Will’s head provides.

He picks up his fork and takes a bite, its flavorful and rich. A perfect mixture of spices.

“This was a really nice surprise,” Molly continues, a huge smile on her face, “thought you said you couldn’t cook.”

“I’ve been practicing,” is all he can mutter out for an explanation.

Wally seems more than pleased with the food as well, “yeah, you should cook for the Memorial Day barbecue, Will. I’m tired of John’s dry ass burgers.”

“Wally. Language,” Will replies, stern and rather annoyed that his step-son has recently been growing up rather quickly.

His step-son shrugs and rolls his eyes, “mom was allowed to. She said 'fucking' to that red-headed lady.”

“Wally!” Both Will and Molly scold at the same time.

Then, “red-headed lady?” Will asks, turning to look at Molly, “Freddie Lounds was here?”

Molly nods, wanting nothing more than to resume to her meal but she replies, “she heard that you were on that case for Jack Crawford. Heard a little too late, though, and ended up here to question me.”

“You say anything?”

“Of course not.”

Wally snorts, “she just kept cussing her out. It was so funny.”

“Wally, come on, finish your breakfast. Cuss again and you won’t see that Playstation of yours.”

He groans, digging back into his food, desperately wanting to get the start of his summer vacation off to a great and lazy game-filled start.

The two are left alone in the kitchen as they clean up, Will drying off the dishes as Molly is wrist deep in soapy water scrubbing the pots and pans with a sponge, “Freddie said something else yesterday.”

“She says a lot of things, not exactly trust-worthy.”

Molly exhales, blowing a lock of hair out of her face, not wanting to get her soapy fingers in her hair. She turns to look at her husband, “apparently she had gotten some confidential information about you. Your therapist in Miami.”

Not wanting to give anything away, Will just continues to dry the dish and places it in the right cabinet, “she snuck into my hospital room and took pictures of my dick and posted them online. I’m not surprised she's stooped to that.”

“She said you hadn’t shown up for two years, Will,” she stops scrubbing and pulls her hands out of the sink. “I didn’t believe her at first, but I looked through our health insurance records. There hasn’t been anything billed to Dr. Brenner since the first time you went there,“ Molly pulls the towel out of Will’s hands and dries her own off as she steps in front of Will. Noticing that her husband is reacting – even if he thinks it’s not showing on his face, it's definitely showing in his stiff posture - to this, she places her hands on the sides of his hips and lays her head on his chest, “I don’t know why you’ve been lying to me about this, Will, but I want you to know you can trust me with anything. I’ve already seen so much to you.”

Will wraps his hands around Molly, tugging her body into a hug as he replies, “I could try and think of another lie to you but…I don’t want to do that.”

She stills under him, “tell me then.”

He looks down at her, taking in her soft and pleading eyes. Like Hannibal had done to him only hours before, he places his hand on Molly’s jaw and caresses her cheek, letting his thumb rub the soft skin, “I want to tell you, but I don’t think I’m ready.”

“If you’re cheating on me-“

“It’s not that, at all.”

Tense, Molly pulls away and settles the weight of her body on the kitchen counter. She stares up at Will, biting her lip as she considers what her husband isn’t telling her, “why Miami? If you weren’t seeing a doctor, and you weren’t cheating on me, why would you go all the way up there?”

“Drugs,” is all Will could get out before Molly blinks and nods, pulling away from him entirely, “not recreational. Prescription I couldn’t get from an actual doctor.”

She shakes her head, confused, “what sort of drugs?”

“Molly, I can’t-“

Molly sighs and pulls her hair back, looking away as she slowly releases the hair running through her finger tips, “I’m not mad about it being about drugs, Will. I’m…I’m just upset that you didn’t think you could tell me.” Then, Molly stares back into Will’s eyes, “is this why you were freaking out this morning? Withdrawals?”

He runs with that, and nods. Wills looks away from her gaze, unwanting for anything about the truth to spill out.

“They’re those stupid fuckin’ opiods aren’t they?” Molly hisses, “damn doctors hooked you up those pain meds and got you addicted.”

Will nods, better to be a drug addict than an omega in Molly’s eyes. He’s pulled back into her body then, love and adoration back on her face as she gently places a soft kiss upon his lips, “it will be alright Will. There’s sobriety programs out there to help,” she smiles, her large and beautiful eyes staring into his, her fingers running through his curly hair.

“I’m sorry,” he gets out between another kiss, “I should have told you.”

Her weight shifts under his touch, as she pulls herself up onto the kitchen counter, spreading her legs around Will’s hips and pushing his waist into hers with her calves, “apology accepted,” she replies, her voice growing softer as she whispers into Will’s ear, “now make it up to me,” she laughs, brushing her leg up against Will’s ass.

His cock stirs from the sudden pressure of being pressed against Molly, “here? Seriously?” Will replies, catching onto what she wants, “Wally could-“

“He’ll be glued to that stupid game for hours, come on. We haven’t done this in a long time, what with Crawford stealing you away from me,” she begins to softly bite in Will’s neck, nothing of the sort that an alpha would but it would still leave marks. Especially when she sucks in some of his skin, leaving behind a blossoming bruise.

Inside, Will could feel something stir – jealousy? Ignoring it, he focuses on his wife, spreading his hands over her soft shoulders, pulling the spaghetti straps down and off her shoulder, his hands running over the swell of her breast as he – pulls away.

The fuck did he pull away for?

He stumbles backwards, Molly left there on the kitchen counter with a look of worry growing on her face, “Will? You okay?” She asks, pulling her shirt back on and jumping off the counter.

“I’m fine, I’m just-“ he swallows, realizing now that it had been Hannibal who had pulled away. The jealousy blooming inside of him belonging to the demon and not himself, “it’s been a weird week and I’m still-“

“Yeah, of course,” Molly replies, unconvinced, “I’m going to go take a shower, alright? We’ll talk later.” A gentle smile is all Will is left with as she leaves him alone in the kitchen.

Empty now, Will frowns and stares around the kitchen, spreading his arms up in exasperation, “what the hell was that? Huh?”

And, no surprise to Will, there’s no reply.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal wants to be Will's psychiatrist while Will just wants normalcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the late upload! i was going to update last night but my brother swung by and we saw deadpool (highly recommend that btw)
> 
> anyways, no beta. all mistakes are mine, constructive criticism is welcome.

Online, there wasn’t many news articles about what had happened the night before. It was still early in the morning, however, and there is bound to be more articles later on.

A wild animal attack was the reasoning behind it, and it only further cemented the situation that Will was in. He could have hallucinated it all, could have kept believing it was some weird fever dream, but the claw marks and the bite marks on the dead corpses were identified to be animalistic in nature – not human.

He types in ‘demonic possession’ into the search bar, and instead of anything helpful it’s a Wikipedia article and a bunch of crack-pot websites…Will closes his eyes and sighs, running his fingers through his curly hair as he realizes that these crack-pot websites were no more crazier than he was.

Will double clicks the search bar, and replaces it with ‘psychiatrists near me’.

A whole list of them loads on the screen, every single one of their names and specialty reminding Will of why he hated them in the first place. A bunch of assholes more interested in his empathy-disorder, wanting to write dissertations and scientific studies about it than to help him through his issues.

Hannibal could feel the hatred in Will’s mind growing, the distrust over doctors. Will’s stray thought about his empathy disorder piquing interest in the demon. Perhaps Will was correct in his distrust, as Hannibal couldn’t help but feel the need to dissect the man he was currently possessing with his own psychiatry skills. _‘The business card in your wallet, Will’,_ Hannibal finally breaks the silence in their minds.

“No,” Will replies softly, well aware of the fact that he was talking out loud to himself. The sound of the water running upstairs a reminder that Molly was still taking a shower and his step-son was currently too occupied upstairs. “The hell was that earlier?”

A feeling of bewilderment spreads across the mind of the other and into Will’s, making Will stiffen from the intrusion of it all. It all felt so similar to the way the thoughts from the serial killers he had hunted would seep into his own mind. Grounding himself to reality, he looks around his house, reinforcing those walls in his mind to keep himself from feeling anything that wasn’t truly himself.

Internally, Hannibal smiles as he feels Will retreating backwards. Anything that they had shared during the night before was slowly being stripped away. The barriers back in full force. ‘ _I was well awake when you were trying to be with your wife.’_

Will blinks, wondering what in the world Hannibal is even talking about.

‘ _It begs the question of her consent, you are not the only being in your body right now. Your wife does not know, therefore, she cannot consent.’_

A harsh laugh escapes from Will, “you’re talking about consent when you invaded my body without it.”

‘ _Many things are done to ourselves without our consent. I am bound to certain rules as are you, when I was summoned I had to take a body. Preferably, I would like my original body back but there are things out of my control. Your wife’s consent, however, is fully up to her.’_

Will’s eyes are glued to the computer screen, the article about the murders he had committed only last night in front of him, but he doesn’t register it at all as he asks: “your original body?”

‘ _I was born, as all living creatures are.’_

“You smell weird.”

His attention snaps away from his laptop, freezing as he lifts his head and sees Wally standing at the bottom of the stair case. “What?” Is all Will can get out, taken aback from the weird statement from the kid he thought was upstairs playing video games.

Wally lingers around the railing, hanging off it, pulling and pushing against it. A fidgety kid with pent up energy from his youth, “I thought it was your cooking this morning. But it’s you, you smell different.”

“It’s…I got a new soap from a hotel room from when I was up in Virginia,” Will quickly lies. Wally was a beta, there was no way his step-son could smell him like this… “I’ll get rid of it.”

His step-son shrugs and turns towards the kitchen, rummaging through the pantry for some snacks. Will cringes when he hears the words, “it smells good,” come out from a child’s mouth. God dammit. Will slaps the laptop closed and avoids anymore of the awkward conversation with the kid as he practically sprints upstairs and into the master bedroom.

Molly flinches from the sudden intrusion, still naked from her shower as the towel was currently wrapped around her hair. “Will, you scared me. God, thought you were Wally at first.”

“You sure Wally’s a beta?”

She blinks, taken aback at the sudden question and smiles softly, “yeah. I mean, born to a beta mother and a beta father, typically a beta is what pops out from that.”

“It can skip generations sometimes.”

“What’s this about?” Molly asks, pulling the towel off and placing it on the computer desk, uncaring about her nudity in front of her husband. “Wally do something?”

Will pauses, realizing that he couldn’t tell Molly about his scent changing and looks away, “he’s at that age where he would typically start presenting. I’m just curious, I guess.”

She nods, padding over to the dresser as she begins to rifle through the folded clothes, “I mean, my father was an alpha…left my mom for an omega. Bunch of abandonment issues there,” she huffs out a sigh of annoyance and continues, “so I guess that he could present as an alpha if it skipped a generation.” A swimsuit is pulled over herself first, followed by one of Will’s old t-shirts and a pair of denim shorts, “I can talk to him if you want me to? Though I'm not sure how to...talk about that sort of thing. Kinda been dreading the whole sex talk...”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll go get the boat ready,” he replies, grabbing his own pair of swim trunks before slipping into the bathroom.

Molly stares at him, confused, wondering why the hell her husband suddenly wanted privacy while getting dressed. Odd, the whole morning was odd. Will's behavior didn't make much sense, even after learning that the opioids the hospital got him on after Abel Gideon attacked him lead to an addiction. She turns the door handle and steps out, noticing Wally in his bedroom, a plate of Oreo’s on his bed as he plays a game.

Quietly, she knocks on his door, a frown on her face as she regards her son. As Wally turns and looks at her, she asks, “It’s nine in the morning, Wally, why in the world are you eating Oreo’s.”

“I was hungry.”

Her eyebrows raise, remembering what Will had said about Wally getting to a certain age. Their food bill has been steadily going up, the kid eating more and more lately, “you need to go get ready. We’re going on the boat today.”

Wally groans, shutting off his game and shoving another cookie in his mouth, “we never catch anything.”

“Might be your lucky day then,” she starts to close the door behind her when she remembers: “put on sunscreen.”

Their fishing poles were settled into a pole lock, mounted on the gunwale of the boat. All three of them sit there, enjoying the summer sun on their skin. In the distance were other boats that were speeding across the horizon, the boat docks no longer visible from how far they were out in the ocean. 

“This is boring,” Wally groans out not even an hour as they sit there.

“You used to love fishing Wally,” Molly replies, her eyes covered by large sunglasses.

Her son shrugs, “even if they do bite it’s always the tiny ones we have to throw back in.”

“It’s getting out of the house, Wally,” Will replies.

The only response is a groan, as Wally slouches further in the chair, putting his legs up on the edge of the boat.

The boat dips and raises with the soft waves underneath as Molly runs her fingers over her smooth legs, except for a small little stripe she missed when she had shaved earlier. Molly frowns, playing with the hairs on her leg with a sigh, “sometimes I wish I was an omega.”

“Why in the world would you wish that?” Will replies, not bothering to look away from the expanse of ocean before him, his fishing line still bobbing up and down in the slight waves underneath.

“They never have to shave,” Molly replies, her voice melancholy. “Those girls never have hair down there, you know? Lucky bastards.”

Will snorts, “they have hair down there it just never thickens up during puberty, it’s like peach fuzz,” he drinks his can of soda, grimacing from the taste. The wine he had with Hannibal in his mind coming back to haunt him, teasing him that a good wine would be much better than this schlock. “Those men too.”

Molly hums, uncaring about the addition of male omegas, “well, my point still stands. Don’t have to shave and experience the irritation of missing a whole entire stripe of hair.”

Turning, Will places his hand where’s Molly’s is and runs his finger over her thickened hair, “it’s fine. It’s barely noticeable.”

“Liar, it’s like a god damn airport runway,” she laughs, pulling her hand away as she allows her husband to run his hands over her legs instead, “though compared to your hairy-ass legs it’s not so bad.” Molly turns and stares at him, even though her gaze was hidden behind the sunglasses Will could feel it on him, “why are you still wearing that shirt? God, it's so humid, take it off.”

He bends over and places a soft kiss on her thigh before trailing up further and placing another on her cheek, “I forgot to wear sunscreen,” he lies quickly, the excuse prepared while he was getting dressed in the house. He had taken the sunscreen out from her bag when she wasn’t looking, needing any excuse he could muster over the lack of scars on his body. Eventually she'll notice, but for now the shirt will have to stay on, even though Molly was correct and the humidity was horrid out here on the water.

Molly stares at him for a moment, “I packed sunscreen,” she then reaches across her chair to her bag. She rifles through it for a moment and grimaces when it turns up empty, “oh, I thought I packed it...Brain fart I guess.”

When she settles back into her chair, Will hands the can of soda to her, “take the rest I don’t wanna waste it.”

“Okay…” Confused, she takes the soda can from her husband, looking it over before taking a sip from it herself, “what’s wrong with it?”

 _‘Tastes like carbonated garbage’,_ Hannibal says within their mind as Will replies: “Too sugary.”

His wife laughs, “First you’re cooking up a five-star breakfast and now you’re too fancy for soda?”

“If it was later I’d be having whiskey instead.”

“Yeah, you’re not driving this boat drunk,” she replies, standing up and adjusting her swim suit, “bathroom.”

Wally and Will are left there by themselves, neither one of them pressed to force conversation with another. “I’ll have the soda,” he replies suddenly, reaching over and grabbing it from the chair his mother was occupying only a few moments ago.

Will says nothing, allowing the silence between them grow as he stares out into the ocean. The thought about the business card pops back into his mind, and unsure if it was his thought or Hannibal’s, Will finally digs out his wallet and pulls it out.

Looking it over, he thinks:  _‘I’m not killing.’_

_‘As I’ve said before, it is better to get over this sooner rather than later. Your hunger will be growing again, very soon, and if you want to avoid what happened in that alleyway and have a cleaner kill then you’ll need to prepare yourself for it.’_

Will’s brows tense, it was a doctor for fucks sakes. Why in the world would he want to kill a  _doctor_? To kill at all? Hell, the entire incident from last night should have never happened in the first place. ‘ _It’s one thing to kill a bunch of neo-nazis, Hannibal, and another to kill a doctor._ ’

‘ _He would be deserving of it._ ’

‘ _The hell did he do?_ ’

‘ _He was rather rude to the flight attendant._ ’

Will blinks, looking out into the ocean as he thinks: ‘ _you want me to kill someone over being rude in an airport._ ’

‘ _Yes_ ,’ is all Hannibal thinks before it’s silent in his mind once more.

Without even a second thought, Will flicks the business card into the ocean with a ‘ _fuck off_ ’ echoing in his mind.

Hannibal watches through Will’s eyes as the business card falls flat into the ocean and is quickly carried away with a splash of a wave against the boat.

It was maddening to see one of the kills he had wanted to plan float away, the host he’s residing in so resilient in fighting back any control that Hannibal tries to wrestle over.

He could try and take over at night, kill the doctor then when Will’s mind was unconscious as he was able to do this morning but there was no wish for Hannibal to grab the attention of the police with a hastily poorly thought out kill. Will had mentioned he was a forensic scientist before, his skills in prepping for a kill her very much needed now that the humans were able to trace DNA and fingerprints.

It had been luck that the bodies found in the outskirts of Miami were classified to be animal deaths. He needed a day at least to watch his prey, figure out where and when he’ll be for a clean cut. Something he couldn’t get without Will fighting against him.

There was also the matter of Will eventually getting so hungry that another messy kill was bound to happen anyways, and Hannibal reminds him of such: ‘ _That hunger you felt yesterday was nothing compared to forgoing human flesh for longer than necessary, Will._ ’

Hannibal is ignored as Wally’s voice grabs Will’s attention, “you said we shouldn’t litter.”

Will smiles, pushing away Hannibal down further. This sort of crazy wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, easily slipping back into the father-role for Wally, “it’s biodegradable…don’t fling stuff over the boat though.”

As expected, there were no bites on their lines. It was getting much too hot now for the fish to be lingering near the surface of the water, choosing instead to hide in the cooler shade where the sun wasn’t beaming down on them. It was just an excuse to get out, enjoy the sun, especially after such a stressful week that Will had gone through.

They settle on the beach after the boat is docked, Wally playing in the sand as Molly lays on a towel on top of the sandy shore.

Will watches as his step-son and dogs run through the water, a smile growing on his face as the dogs run away from an incoming wave. “I’ve been thinking about seeing a psychiatrist.”

Molly doesn’t sit up, but she shifts on her towel and turns her head over to Will, “that’s good because I was going to recommend group therapy.”

“Group therapy?” He grimaces.

“Yeah, you know where people talk about their addictions and stuff. A sober companion, I don’t know much about it, just the stuff on TV.”

“That sounds worse than a psychiatrist.”

Molly smiles, “yeah, those random strangers are definitely going to want to write scientific articles about your empathy.”

He nods at her sarcasm, but a group therapy session for a drug issue he didn’t have would be useless. Not to mention the fact that there would be alphas and betas there, just waiting to pounce on the fact that he was a male omega, an easy target to abuse and get away with. “It’s not just that, I got other issues rattling around.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Molly sits up then, staring out into the ocean, “we have that Memorial Day barbecue next week by the way. I’m gonna have to run to Key West and pick up some alcohol, apparently we had to do that but I didn’t see the e-mail about it until yesterday.”

Will groans, “you know I’m not good with these neighborhood block parties.”

“You promised you’d practice getting over it.”

There were too many alpha neighbors that would be attending, and until he got the Hannibal situation taken care of he’ll need a plan B. He’ll need to at least get scent blockers if suppressants were out of reach. At least the cheap sort would work, he thinks. “I’ll head out to Key West, get the alcohol for you,” he replies, running his hand through the sand. He smiles, “need anything else while I’m out there?”

“We need more basic food supplies, bread, eggs, that sort of stuff. Wally is practically decimating my pantry at his growth rate,” she replies, standing up and brushing the sand off her swim suit with a smile, “bring Wally in soon. I’m gonna go start lunch.” Will nods, staring off into the ocean and keeping his eye on his step-son, making sure the kid doesn’t hurt himself or drown.

“You’re not treating this situation seriously,” Hannibal says, crossing his legs on his couch.

Will blinks, finding himself in the living room of the mansion he was in only last night. He was still wearing his beach clothes, bits of sand tracking on Hannibal’s fine leather furniture, shaking off into the plush carpet below. A fireplace was lit in front of him, radiating heat.

“The situation? You mean the one where I’m supposed to kill someone because he was  _rude_?” Will stands up, making it a point to brush off more of the sand onto Hannibal’s floor, “how about my situation, Hannibal? The suppressants you threw out on me, and then threatened to make me throw up if I took another?”

“You don’t need those,” Hannibal replies calmly, ignoring the sand now scattered on the carpet, “you do however need to eat. I don’t believe I need to remind you of the hierarchy of needs.”

Will starts for the hallway, pulling the front door open and suddenly it closes on him. “You want a psychiatrist, I am one,” Hannibal says, watching as Will spins around. His face red with anger, brows tense.

The omega strikes Hannibal across the face, landing a blow that forces Hannibal on the floor. Will follows him down, wrapping his hand around his throat. Hannibal simply smiles as the omega forces down more pressure around the demon’s throat before realizing that the entire thing was futile.

Attacking him inside his own…whatever the hell it was.

Hannibal disappears beneath him, suddenly he’s above him, dragging Will by his shirt collar and slamming him against the hallway wall. More sand falling off his body and onto the pristine floor below. And Will wants nothing more to do than punch that smile off his face, but he finds himself stuck on the wall by a pair of antlers.

The black stag is there as Hannibal sits down in the study, as if he wasn’t just punched on the face, and stares as the stag keeps its antlers through Will’s body.

“I find myself rather bored of your life, Will,” Hannibal starts, placing his hand underneath his own chin as if he were assessing him, “you however are quite interesting whereas your wife and child are not. I’d like to have you as a patient if I’m not allowed to have control of your body.”

“And this is supposed to get me to agree to therapy with you,” Will replies, his voice strained from the pain of the antlers penetrating through his flesh. He can’t help but bite back with his last defense mechanism, goading the wendigo: “God, when was the last time you even practiced? 1952? Newsflash asshole, psychiatry changes.”

Hannibal nods, “I’m aware of that. While you were unconscious last night I did have a go at your laptop. Rather interesting how some things have changed over the years.” He stands, nearing the stag and placing his hand on the feathery strands in a soft pet, “one could diagnose you with multi-personality disorder given the shared minds. Although we both know the truth of the matter, and no other psychiatrist is going to diagnose you with demonic possession.”

“It’s dissociativ-“

“Dissociative identity disorder,” Hannibal cuts in, “I’ve been on this Earth long enough that I am well aware of changing terminology and diagnosis. There was very little to do in your house besides research that and other mental disorders as your DVD collection outnumbered the amount of books you owned.”

The stag finally pulls back, letting Will free from the wall as he doubles over grasping his stomach in pain. It was if the beast was never there as Hannibal takes Will’s chin into his hands, looking the omega over.

Hannibal then maneuvers him back into the living room, softly placing him on the couch as he bends down at Will’s eye-level. “Wally likes movies and they’re mostly Molly’s from before we moved in together,” Will painfully replies, as Hannibal tugs his bloodied shirt off of him.

“Your child doesn’t know how to read?” Hannibal teases, looking over the wounds that the stag left on his body. Hannibal runs his hand over the blood, the wounds slowly healing, “you’ll be fine. Don’t attack me again, or I won’t heal them this quickly next time.”

Will looks down at his bare-naked chest, the stab wounds gone besides the residue of blood. He glares at Hannibal, watching as the wendigo places one of his fingers covered in Will’s blood into his mouth, tasting it with a smirk on his face. Will makes no mention of him tasting his blood, getting to the point of the matter: “I need suppressants.”

“You don’t,” Hannibal replies, sitting down across from Will once more.

“You’ve seen how male omegas are treated, there’s no way I can ever have a normal life, have a job, when I’m like this.”

Hannibal softly smiles, once more looking over Will as if he were a curious creature, “you’re currently possessed by an ancient demon and you’re worried about being seen as an omega.”

“You’re an alpha, there’s very little you’d understand about-“

“You’ve been taken suppressants since you were a small child, there’s very little  _you_  understand about being an omega when you’ve never lived as an omega.” Will stills, taken aback from what Hannibal had just said. Aspects of his life that he’s never shared with the wendigo, but must have slipped out in his thoughts. Hannibal continues, “I’ve lived for a very long time, Will, I am aware of how male omegas are treated by humans.”

“Then you’d understand why I need those suppressants.”

“The discrimination is a rather new phenomenon,” Hannibal ignores, continuing as he takes in Will’s surprised expression. “Male omegas were actually prized rarities in societies before the fall of Rome. You’re the only sex who can both create life in their own bodies and create life in others.”

Will stares at him, he had known all of this from his high school studies of history. How male omegas were accepted into society, accepted into war. Everything an omega now couldn’t do, they could do then. “What do you want from me?” Will asks, desperate to know what Hannibal hoped to gain from taking away the one thing that is allowing him to cling to a normal life.

“I want you to accept the situation, instead of ignoring it as you have been. You’re a male omega, who is now a wendigo. You won’t have suppressants and you will need to eat.” Hannibal turns his head, regarding the omega before him. Taking in Will’s murderous expression, Hannibal smiles. “I find you interesting.”

Will continues to glare at him, spitting out, “I don’t.”

Hannibal smiles once more, a gleam in his eyes as the omega fights back against him, "you will."

He’s slapped across the face and the beach is once more in front of him, his step-son wide-eyed and scared with his hand raised up in the air. “I’m sorry, I panicked,” Wally cries out. His eyes watery from fear.

“What?” Will rubs his cheek where his step-son had just slapped him.

“You weren’t responding to me so-“

“You slapped me?” Will states, baffled, “Christ, Wally. Go…go get washed up.”

His step-son is running back towards the house before Will is standing up. The dogs quickly following after the kid.

Will turns his attention back to the crashing waves before him, the sharp sting from his step-son slapping him still burning on his cheek. He wonders briefly what he looked like, pulled back into Hannibal’s mind but his body still physically out in the real world. It probably freaked Wally out, seeing Will like that. He sighs, standing up and brushing the sand off his body.

Wally hadn’t told Molly about the incident on the beach as they settle into the kitchen and quietly eat their lunch. Grilled cheese and tomato soup, that Will could hardly keep down from the disgusting taste.

He forces it down, not wanting Molly to question why he’s hardly eating anything anymore. So, Will eats what he can and quickly uses the excuse that he needs to buy alcohol for the Memorial Day party to escape and throws it all back up in the trash can behind their home. 

Will stews in his anger as he drives down the highway towards Key West, annoyed over the fact that he had once enjoyed the food Molly made. It was never the best, he'd agree with that, but it wasn't disgusting. It had never made him want to literally throw it all back up. "Thought you said it would be tolerable, Hannibal."

' _My cooking would be tolerable. Your wife's however, your gag reflex did yourself a favor.'_

As Will pulls into the parking lot of the Publix, Hannibal could feel someone watching the two. Curious to see what will happen from the feeling of being stalked, he says nothing and allows the omega to carry on his business.

Before Will are rows and rows of different hygiene products designed for omegas. Female omegas, with floral patterns on the packaging and guaranteed to ‘boost your natural scent!’ with adding even more fruity undertones. Grimacing, Will looks down the aisle for what he came here for and spots the scent suppressors in a small little section of the hygiene aisle.

His cart beside him was full of alcohol that he had needed to buy for the party, some food to last them another week, picking a lot of pre-made and processed crap that Hannibal so helpfully commented on each and every time.

Hannibal’s thoughts comment again, asking, ‘ _how long do you think you can keep lying to your wife before she finds out?_ ’

“She’s a beta, as long as no one else scents me I’ll be fine.”

‘ _And when you’re in your heat?’_

Will angrily grabs a random bottle off the shelf, purposely ignoring that aspect of being an omega. He’s never experienced one, but he’s seen the recreation of it in porn and movies. That he’ll cross when he gets there, but for now all he needs is his alpha neighbors to not smell it on him tomorrow.

 _'One thing at a time'_ , he thinks to himself.

As he rounds the corner and almost runs the shopping cart into another person. “Sorry,” Will mutters out, backing away from them and about to go around when he glances up and is looking straight into Freddie Lounds’s face. “Oh, for fucks sake,” he groans out, exhausted.

Freddie smirks as she crosses her arms, a camera in her hands. Her eyes flicker down to the bottle of scent suppressors in Will’s hand, and her eyebrows raise at that. “Fancy seeing you here,” she calmly replies, scenting the air. It clicks instantly when the female alpha regards Will once more, with much more interest. “What a surprise.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will is found out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> moving to tuesday updates [UPDATES ARE NOW SPORADIC!!!] because i recently got a pizza delivery job and i wont be able to update saturday nights anymore. also im starting school (taking four summer classes....yikes), so if there's gaps where i dont upload in a week, that's why.
> 
> Aiiiight, so, M/F sex is in this chapter (i've never written m/f porn in my life oh my god, i hope its not bad akdfjgkldfl). I know some people don't care for it because they're here for Hannigram I put stars before it starts and after it ends so you can skip it if its not your cup of tea. It will look like this: "*****".
> 
> All mistakes are mine, I don't have a beta and like always constructive criticism is welcome

“An omega,” Freddie quirks an eyebrow, “your wife know?” She settles on her other foot, faking a surprised face as she asks in a low whisper, “does Jack?”

He throws the scent suppressors into the cart, pushing her out of the way with a “fuck off.” Will ignores the scent come off from Freddie, the scent he can only describe as being an unmated alpha – which his animalistic instincts enjoy, being an unmated omega, but his human mind could only feel disgust for his body reacting that way to fucking  _Freddie Lounds_. It shocked him how quickly his body was able to sort the different scents off of people, immediately recognizing her as an alpha even though he had never scented it before when he was on suppressants his entire life.

She had expected some sort of juicy details from the beta, after she had learned that Will wasn’t truly seeing a psychiatrist in Miami. There were all sorts of scenarios running through Freddie’s head, cheating on his wife or as she’d speculated most of the time on her blog: murdering people, but Will being an omega? That was something she never expected. The smirk on her face grows larger as she follows him through the aisle, “they don’t do they…and I imagine with you buying those scent suppressors that you don’t want them to find out either.”

Will stops and turns then, glaring, “what the hell do you want Freddie?”

“My silence in exchange for an exclusive interview with the man who was supposedly kidnapped and let go by one of the most prominent killers.”

“And who’s to say you wouldn’t just publish that information anyways,” he sneers, “you’re a tabloid writer. You tell anyone I’m an omega no one would believe you.”

Freddie pats her camera, “pictures of you in the omega hygiene aisle would definitely do the trick, I think.”

Will exhales, the woman was always a pain in his ass. There was no telling how many other pictures she had of him. She was sneaky, smart, and was able to weasel into his hospital room with police guards surrounding it and take pictures of the aftermath of the surgery from Abel Gideon’s wound.  _‘We could kill her,’_ Hannibal’s voice chimes in.

 _‘No,’_  Will replies simply inside his own mind. Then, to Freddie: “you want an interview?”

“That’s why I came all the way down here.”

“Then the pictures, delete them.”

Freddie shakes her head, “and how am I to believe that you’re a man of your word if I do?”

“You’re a fuckin’ headache, Freddie. You delete those pictures, you’ll find ten other ways to find proof on me later. But you want the interview you delete _those_  pictures, now.”

Slowly, she pulls the camera out of her bag. A frown on her face as she deletes the pictures one by one, only looking back up to Will when the deed is done. “Happy?”

“Your cellphone too, I know you’re recording this shit.”

Freddie rolls her eyes, frowning as she pulls the cellphone out from her bag. She stops the recording and deletes it in front of Will. “You know all my tricks now, huh?”

“I do,” Will replies, and he can feel his body move forward, not of his own regard – but of Hannibal’s. He doesn’t even fight it as a growl escapes his lips, sounding all too much of an alpha protecting its own domain. Freddie steps back, confused and wide-eyed from the alpha noise coming from an omega as Hannibal rips the camera out of her hands, the cellphone with it.

She’s up against a stacking of paper towels on a shelf when she scents the air once more, a mingling of alpha pheromones coming from the man before her now. The scent is off-putting, one that would let another alpha know that they are in another’s territory and she looks away as Hannibal in Will’s body settles into her personal space. Staring down at her.

The camera breaks in Will’s hand, “ _you’ve been very rude,”_ Hannibal says, dropping the remains of the camera to the ground. “ _I suggest you don’t follow us out of the store.”_ Hannibal looks over the cellphone, breaking it in half next as he places the remains of the device back into her purse.

“Us?” Freddie squeaks out, her eyes still wide from the sudden shift in Will’s domineer, avoiding his gaze.

Hannibal only smiles, handing back control to Will as the omega takes back his body, pulling away from Freddie’s cowered form. He kicks at the remains of the camera as he turns around, pushing his shopping cart towards check-out, ‘ _that’s only going to give her more incentive to investigate me, Hannibal._ ’

_‘Then let her, bring the meal to us.’_

Will groans silently, ignoring Hannibal he turns his attention to the task at hand and loads the conveyor belt with his items.

There’s no sign of Freddie as he packs up his car, but that meant very little coming from the notorious tabloid reporter. Freddie was resourceful and now that she knew that Will was an omega, there would be very little stopping her from using anything against him to get a story.

_‘What’s the story on her?’_

“What, you can’t just read my mind and find out?”

_‘Unlike the others, you’re quite good at keeping me out of the barriers of your own mind. So, no, I cannot.’_

Will sighs, staring into his own reflection from the rear-view mirror as if he could look at Hannibal. As he merges back onto the bridge he replies, “she took pictures of my dick and colostomy bag when I was in the hospital. She’s a click-bait reporter, makes money over sensationalism rather than genuine reporting.”

_‘And how did she acquire those pictures?’_

“I was unconscious at the time but I was told that she bribed the nurses of the hospital to let her into the room, after I was gutted by Abel Gideon…which, by the way, I want my scars back.”

A feeling of confusion spreads from Hannibal and leaks into Will’s own mind,  _‘why would you want your old wounds back?’_

“Because my wife would notice that I no longer have scars and will question me about it. I can’t keep a shirt on forever around her.”

‘ _Very well,_ ’ Hannibal replies, before a sharp pain in his shoulder from the gun-wound and the stomach wound hits Will.

He flinches from the sudden pain, only taking his eyes off the road for a moment as he clenches his eyes. It subsides rather quickly, and Will pulls his shirt sleeve up and finds the wound from the bullet back on his shoulder.

Satisfied with getting what he wanted, Will pushes Hannibal back behind the confines of the walls in his mind. Shoving the demon into the darkness where the other serial killers he’d empathize with reside.

It’s quiet once more, the feelings and thoughts of the other were no longer there. Trapping Hannibal into the darkness of unconsciousness. It would not last for long, Will knows that eventually he’ll let his guard down and Hannibal would take the chance to take control once more but for now – it’s his own mind. It’s his own body.

Will shoves the scent blockers into the passenger seat, as Molly starts for the trunk. He helps her unload all the bags, placing them in their correct spots inside the kitchen.

As he and Molly put away the groceries, he watches her. The curves of her body as she flutters about the kitchen, putting the different products away where they belonged. She was right, they hadn’t had sex in a long time with all the chaos of Jack Crawford visiting, the case, and well the five thousand things wrong with Will Graham putting it on the back-burner.

*****

When she bends over at the refrigerator, her pants pulled tight around her waist, Will slides behind her and grabs her there. She jumps from the sudden contact, turning around with a knowing grin on her face, “what? Grocery shopping turn you on?” Molly laughs, standing up and turning to face her husband, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Wally out?” He asks, jumping to the point, not wanting to wait any longer. Will had wanted to do this the day before, and with Hannibal buried down he finally  _can_.

“Yeah he’s out at John’s house, playing with Sam.”

“Good,” Will replies, pressing his lips to hers. She quickly opens her mouth to his, hungrily kissing back as Will walks her backwards until her ass is pressed against the kitchen counter, “where were we?”

She lifts herself up, grinning as she grabs for Will’s shirt, tugging it up and over his torso and throwing it on the floor. Her hands roam his body, over the scars that were back on his body before dipping down into his pants, grabbing Will’s hardening flesh.

Will groans from the touch, pressing his nose against the crook of his wife’s neck as he lifts his hips up – trying to get more of her touch. Pressing his nose where the scent glands would be on an alpha, but there’s no scent to her, only the faintness of the soap product she uses. He moves away then, unable to scent her properly.

He pulls off her shirt next, her breasts firm and supported in a well-worn bra. Unlatching it, he throws it onto the growing pile of clothes in the corner of the kitchen, taking one of her breasts into his hand, the other on her ass as he kisses her once more. Deep and desperate.

His pants are next as Molly unzips him, pulling his length out of the slit in his boxers. Will does the same for her, nearly ripping off the denim jeans from her legs. Breaking the kiss, he lowers himself, taking her nipples into his mouth before lowering further until he reaches her panties.

They’re soaking wet and Will realizes that he is too. He can feel it, the wetness growing in his own boxer briefs, he’s never had the chance to feel that before with the suppressants he took. It was an uncomfortable feeling, an emptiness there that needed to be filled. He groans in need, wanting something there but knowing that he can’t.

Will’s thick fingers push the panties aside, and he rubs her clit, enjoying the groan as Molly flings her head back in pleasure. “God, fuck me…” He guides his dick inside of her, pushing deep into her. She’s warm, wet, ready for him as he buries all the way in, biting the part of her shoulder where a mating bite would be if she were an omega. It’s a soft bite, not breaking the skin as he releases her there and replaces it with a wet kiss. Thrusting into her, Molly’s grip on the kitchen counter tight as her husband roughly fucks her.

Buried deep in her, he slides his fingers through her wet lips before running his finger over her swollen clit. Her entire body vibrates as the pleasure runs through her, helplessly she holds onto Will’s shoulders as he continues to fuck into her. Molly stills around him as he rubs her, tightening around his dick as she comes.

Will follows soon after, coming deep into his wife. With no knot to tie them together like an alpha would, Will easily slips out of her. He pulls the panties back over her, well aware of how wet she was and that most of the come wouldn’t stay.

*****

She lazily kisses him, zipping her husband back up as she slides down the kitchen counter. “I need to go clean myself up,” Molly sighs out when she breaks the kiss, “clean the counters?”

“Yeah, of course,” Will replies, standing there as he watches as Molly strolls into the downstairs bathroom. His face reddens as he can feel the wetness inside his own boxers as he adjusts himself and moves. Flustered, he rips a couple of paper towels off from the counter and grimaces when he shoves them down his pants.

It’s sensitive, he realizes as he wipes the slick away. And it only makes him feel more repulsed as a sliver of pleasure runs through him as he touches himself down there. Will knew that men no matter what gender they were could enjoy anal sex, every male had a prostate after all and simulating it was something even alphas could enjoy. But there was no way he could let himself do that, fall into the typical omega-fashion of preferring anal.

Curiosity takes a hold of him, his breathe hitches as he keeps an eye on the bathroom door where his wife was and slowly runs his finger over his hole. Shuddering, he stops, not wanting to become like all the other male omegas of the world. He bites his lips, forcing himself to think of how fucking gross and embarrassing it was rather than a natural bodily function. And as he finishes wiping the slick off his body and hurriedly buries it into the trash, he adjusts himself – wanting to forget that ever happened.

After he washes his hands and grabs the cleaner from under the sink, he sprays the counters. It’s when he starts to wipe down the counters that Molly was sitting on just minutes ago that Hannibal appears again, ‘ _very unsanitary.’_

Will ignores him, trying to push him away but the fucker budges back. Angrily, he gathers up the clothes that were thrown to the floor and heads towards the bathroom. His wife’s shirt in his hands. He knocks on the door.

“What? I’m on the toilet…”

“Your shirt, Molly.”

“Yeah, just leave it on the stair case I’ll get it.”

Will does as such, putting his own shirt back on as he starts for the door, “I’m heading out to the shop, need to check on a few things for work.”

“’Kay,” comes the muffled voice from the other side of the bathroom door.

In the car, Will grabs the scent suppressors where he had tucked away in the passenger side earlier. He crosses the length of the beach where the boat harbor lays, the workshop nearly set on top of the water. When he’s out of visible distance from their house, he sprays himself with the product being sure to hit all the scent points.

The shop was a rather large hangar like structure, a boat currently settled in the middle with an array of different boat parts thrown here and there as Will worked. Most of the people around here did their own repairs when they could, but for the most part if they had a problem: they came to Will.

He was good at what he did, and it made Will wonder why he ever left New Orleans and his dad’s old boat repair business to join a career field that always caused him mental issues one after another. Will bends down pulls open one of the bottom drawers on a work bench, tucking the bottle of scent suppressors under a bag of nuts and bolts. As he stands back up, he finds himself back in the living room of Hannibal Lecter’s mind.

“For fucks sakes Hannibal, you can’t just keep pulling me into your stupid…castle, thing…whatever the fuck this is.”

The demon is behind him, settled in his living room armchair. Another chair across from him, “I like to refer to it as a mind palace of sorts. Each and every room of my palace is another memory of mine, to relive and relish in. Particularly when I’m not allowed on Earth, it is my refuge.”

Will turns his head, sighing, “what do you want now?”

“Your therapy,” Hannibal replies.

“What?”

“I’m interested in those mental issues you were thinking about.”

“Thought you said you couldn’t read my mind.”

Hannibal nods, “I did. I cannot dig through your own mind at my leisure, but I can however read your thoughts when you are sharing them, even unconsciously.”

Will spreads his arms, motioning to the whole living room before him, “what do you want? Want me to lay down doctor?”

“Sit.”

Without the knowledge of how to escape this place, Will does as he is told. But he shows his annoyance as he slowly steps forward, exhaling with an overdramatic sigh as he settles into the chair across from Hannibal. Glaring at him.

“What made you want to join the police force in the first place?”

Will shrugs. Hannibal watches as Will shifts and moves on the chair, tucking his legs up, reminding him much like Will’s wife would sit as she did on the boat. It was normal for humans to take bits and pieces of another’s personality and absorb them after spending so much time together, but for Will it had been as if he were copying and mimicking Molly directly.

Hannibal smiles, “your empathetic ability to absorb and reflect are truly amazing.”

Taken aback from the sudden shift in topic, Will blinks, “Excuse me?”

“You act much like your wife does, I saw it earlier when you were interacting with her early this morning. The way your tone and your accent shifted to match hers.”

Will stills, confused. He shifts in his chair, noticing that he was sitting like Molly usually does when she grades homework before bed. It was uncomfortable, he finds, trying to remember how _he_  sat. Will decides on sitting straight forward, hands on his lap.

“You also cuss quite a lot because of her own personality being reflected in yours,” Hannibal continues, assessing the man before him, “pure empathy. The mirror neurons in your mind never disappearing after childhood.”

“I cuss a lot normally, it has nothing to do with Molly,” the omega before him sneers, though he does have to agree with the alpha’s assessment that he was mimicking her. It was hard not to, being married to her for nearly two years now, only being separated by work. Although with summer vacation let out and Molly refusing to teach summer school, they have seen each other far more often. His work in the boat shop was his own hours to be set. Will nods, “I’ve known that since I was a kid, I don’t need to be told that I have an empathy disorder.”

Hannibal smiles at Will’s won term that he uses when referring to his empathy. A disorder, not something uniquely beautiful and something to be praised. But it does explain much about the thoughts and urges in the back of Will’s mind, suppressed images and feelings from the serial killers he’s shared his mind with. “When you pushed me down, into the darkness, I saw what you were hiding from your time as a police officer and an FBI special agent. How you’ve formed those barriers in your mind. I’m curious, Will, why did you  _did_  you join a career field that exasperated so many of your ‘mental issues’?”

“I was good at it,” Will starts, more annoyed that he’s given in to answering Hannibal’s questions more than anything else.

“You’re good at fixing boats too, so that isn’t quite an answer.”

Will tisks, turning his head from Hannibal as he looks to the other side of the room, “wanted to get away from my father.”

“One could say you’ve never escaped him.” The omega before him turns back towards him, stiffening back up. He knows exactly what Hannibal is about to say, and Hannibal continues: “he put you on rather strong suppressants at the first sign of heat. And without my intrusion, you’d still be on them.”

“It’s my choice to be on them, Hannibal. I could’ve dropped those suppressants the moment I left Louisiana, but I didn’t.”

“Is it still your choice when it’s a matter of the world still viewing you as your father did?”

Will rolls his eyes, glaring at the alpha that is sitting across from him. “What do I smell like now? Now that the suppressants are nearly out of my system?”

“It reminds me of a brisk winter morning, sharp and cold but a pleasurable scent as the world around it dies.”

The omega stares at him for a moment, taken aback from the odd description of his scent, “I was expecting ‘fruity’.”

Hannibal smiles, “a stereotype for omegas, people expect a more fruitful scent out of them. However, I find those to be the scent boosters and deodorants that add that unnatural and offensive tone to their scent. Your scent is dangerous.”

Will scoffs, “yeah, well I’m covering that ‘dangerous’ scent with scent blockers.”

“I noticed.”

“Not something you can be rid of very quickly, unless you want to jump into a shower every time I apply it,” Will settles back into his chair, crossing his arms. Very proud indeed to have one-up’ed the demon before him.

There is, however, no signs of defeat on the alpha before him as Hannibal simply nods in acknowledgement, “it is a very temporary solution, Will. I’m letting you get away with this solely because I know it will not last long. Sooner or later, you will have to come to terms with your beautiful gender and so will the world.”

“Beautiful?” Will sighs, rolling his eyes as he unwraps his arms and stands up. “I’m an abomination of genders. I’ll find a way to get rid of you, Hannibal, and I’ll find a way back onto those suppressants. You are nothing more than a bump in the road in my life.”

Hannibal smirks, taken with Will’s blunt cruelty, “we’ll see.”

The week passes by in a blurry haze, the hunger ramping up as the days wear on. The weakness grows within his body, the fatigue even more. Will explains it as withdrawals, and in a way he’s right but for Molly it appears that he’s pushing through the opioid imbalance in his body since going cold-turkey.

The nightmares return full stop, the discombobulated images striking discomfort and fear within him. Molly is there, standing in the shadows of a forest. The stag stalks her, behind, circling, before piercing its antlers through her chest. She screams, but nothing comes out in the blurriness of Will’s sleep-addled mind.

It’s when the stag disappears, her body laying there on the ground that Will realizes that he’s bent over her bloodied corpse. Her blood covering his entire naked flesh – blackened with towering antlers spilling from his skull. Will tears into her warm flesh, eating, consuming her in ways that would satiate the needing hunger in his belly.

There’s a pool of sweat underneath him as he shakily pulls himself up. Molly sits up beside him, watching with her brows tense from worry, “we don’t have to go today. I’ll tell them that you’re sick.”

“I’ll be fine,” he blinks, the weakness of his body creating a painful sort of sore within his muscles.

There’s distrust on his wife’s face, she doesn’t believe him. “Come on, I’ll make breakfast.”

“No,” Will replies. “Go back to bed, I’ll be fine.” He forces himself up, ignoring the amount of sweat still coating his body. Molly says nothing as he enters the bathroom, desperate for a shower.

The sheets are changed out when he gets out, Molly tucked in the blankets and sleeping easily as if she was never even woken up in the middle of the night.

He makes his way down stairs, tugging open the refrigerator door as he stares at the food they do have. Grabbing all the meat he can, he shoves it on the counter, staring at it with anger. The animal meat was unfulfilling, its taste slowly growing more and more repulsive as the need for human flesh grew.

Hannibal was right about that, it was tolerable early in the week but now as he stares down at the animal meat before him it only made him gag.

Will shoves it back into the refrigerator, sighing as he sits down on the kitchen floor, his head leaning back and resting on the counters.

“What was the longest you’ve gone without human flesh?” Will asks to the empty air.

Hannibal is quick to stir in the darkness of his mind, pushing there at the boundaries, ‘ _around one-hundred years. Being exorcised is a painful process, not in the expulsion but in the ability of not having a form on Earth to eat._ ’

Groaning, Will rubs his temples, “its only been a week and I’ve never felt this hungry before…”

‘ _I did try and warn you, Will._ ’

He rests his eyes, the barriers in his mind falling as he slips into an unconscious sleep sitting there in the kitchen.

Hannibal takes control when Will is out cold, taking note of the hunger that Will – and he in proxy - is experiencing. Needing something to do with his hands, he starts breakfast for Will’s human family. Enjoying what he can of the food he creates, even if it does nothing to satiate the core hunger.

When Will wakes back up, he makes no attempt to push Hannibal away. Too weak, really, he wonders down to his workshop, spraying the scent neutralizer all over him before the Memorial Day neighborhood party starts.

And it starts fast as the beaches begin to fill up with tourists and locals alike. He watches Molly down on the beach, Wally in the depths of the water as he hovers over the beer cooler.

With two beers in his hands, Will walks through the crowds that amass on the beaches every holiday. He makes his way towards John, handing the alpha the other beer. He watches closely to see any sign of John scenting him, and relaxes when he doesn’t.

The smell of charcoal and the burning meet before he must help with any hints of it. The scent suppressors were good, but they didn’t work all the time – they were to be used in combination with pill suppressants, but Hannibal was a fuckin’ ass. And Will purposely lets that thought free, thinking of a giant middle finger as well to the asshole demon currently riding shotgun in his mind.

“Thanks,” John replies, taking a sip of the beer, “you know, I covered your ass by the way.”

“What for?” Will blinks, unsure of what he could have done that John would cover for.

He sets a bunch of pre-made beef patties down onto the grill, not even bothering to season them – which Hannibal helpfully supplies into Will’s thoughts – and replies, “that crazy reporter chick you warned me about.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, psycho alpha bitch...though, she did have that store surveillance of you breaking her camera,” he pauses, looking over Will, “which don’t worry, I got rid of the evidence.”

Will blinks, simultaneously hating the corrupt deletion of evidence as a former police officer himself but at the same time, Freddie Lounds couldn’t strike up a story against him now that the police department ‘lost’ the video. Sure, she’ll probably make noise online as she typically does but without proof the article wouldn’t have the legs to stand on – even as a tabloid journalist. “Thanks, she’s a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, no problem. I saw that article she did back when you worked for the FBI? Real piece of work that one. You know she was ranting and raving about how you’re an omega?”

He tries not to respond to that in any way, but he stiffens a bit, “that’s a new low, even for her.”

John laughs, “Christ, like you’re standing right next to me and I can’t smell a damn thing on you. Dunno what the fuck she’s talking about.”

“Desperate for a story I guess, probably doesn’t help that I broke her camera.”

“She deserved it,” he replies.

John grabs the spatula and flattens the beef patties out of the grill, all the juices spilling out. He could feel Hannibal’s disgust as he flips the burgers. “ _You shouldn’t flatten the burgers like that_ ,” Hannibal says through Will. Will blinks, taken aback from Hannibal’s sudden intrusion. He takes the beer in his hand and drinks it to fill the awkwardness growing between the alpha cop and the omega.

“How am I supposed to do it then?” John asks, his voice a little peeved at being instructed by a  _beta_.

Hannibal explains, forcing Will to lower the beer: “ _Flattening them at that point will only make the burger dry.”_

Will grimaces, expecting John to chew him out for questioning him. The guy was all alpha male, one of the worst sort of cops that Will had to deal with in his time on the force himself, but John replies quietly, “is that why my kids hate my cooking so much?”

“Yeah,” Will quietly replies back, almost reveling in taking John down a couple pegs, “they kinda wanted me to cook instead.”

“Ah, Christ. How do I get the moisture back in.” He grabs the spray bottle underneath the grill used for flare-ups, “this-“

“No, no…don’t do that,” Will grabs the spray bottle and shoves it back, “Just, the next batch of burgers flatten them before you put them on the grill.” He awkwardly walks away, beer bottle back into his mouth, desperate to get drunk and forget about the fact that he couldn’t eat anything here even if it was cooked properly.

The nausea lessens when he’s back near the beach, sitting next to Molly on her blanket. The shade of the umbrella covering her face but not her body – she had been wanting to tan her legs after having to wear work pants all winter while she was at school.

They silently watch the kids, the gaggle of teenagers, and young adults on summer vacation playing in the water, the waves spilling forth and retreading back creating a relaxing white noise.

Catherine smiles at the two as she strolls up the beach, rolling out her towel as she settles beside Molly. Her wet skin reflecting the sun as she dries herself off. “The waters nice, y’all two should join in,” her thick Southern accent rolls off her tongue.

“Not really in the mood to swim today, just wanna tan,” Molly replies.

“You can multitask. That’s what I’m doing,” she giggles, her omegan voice soft as she basks in the sun, “what about you Will? Waters nice.”

“Gonna stick around my wife, today, sorry Cathy,” he responds, his voice tinted with the reflection of Catherine’s thick accent.

“Will,” Molly says, turning to face her husband.

“Yeah?”

“You’re doing that thing again.”

“Oh,” Will replies, shutting up as he smiles back at Catherine. Then, conscious of his voice he replies, “would rather not get wet right now. Got to make sure John doesn’t burn those burgers.”

“Those burgers he makes are beyond saving. I’ve told him to season it all the time but he says it detracts from the flavor of the beef...God help him,” Catherine smiles sweetly, well aware that her husband was complete shit when it came to cooking, “you’re so cute when you do that thing. It’s adorable. Anyways, I’mma go jump back in. Molly, you’re free to join anytime.”

“Roger that,” Molly replies, turning her head back to face Will, “did you see those legs of hers?”

“I wasn’t looking.”

Molly snorts, “yeah, good answer. But god, I’m jealous. She doesn’t have to shave or anything.”

“Your legs are fine, Molly. I don’t know why you’re so self-conscious about it.”

“I’d love to go swimming but it’s the razor burns, they freakin’ hurt in salt water. Cathy doesn’t have to worry about that, fucking lucky asshole omega…you know I swear she thickens up that accent on purpose. She thinks she’s cute like that.”

Will can’t help but laugh, “you’re very jealous. Molly. I’m not attracted to omegas in any shape or form, don't worry I'm not gonna run off with an omega on my arm.”

Molly groans, rolling over onto her stomach and resting her chin on her arms, letting her back-side tan next, “they say even betas are attracted to omegas. Shit, I am.”

“You are?” Will blinks.

“Yeah, I was looking at her fuckin’ legs Will. Come on, she’s cute…the little fucker…”

Will laughs, “should I be the one that’s jealous then?”

“Please, you’re stuck with me,” she smiles back.

They both jolt forward in surprise as a scream breaks them out of their conversation as “shark!” is yelled over and over again from the ocean.

“It’s probably a false alarm...” Molly mutters, still looking on with interest. "Stupid rumors. It's probably just a thing of sea-weed on a person's leg."

Will stands up however, his protective instincts kicking is as all the swimmers start splashing around in panic-induced fear.

He starts for the water, desperate to find Wally in the commotion happening as all the swimmers come into shore. Molly is by his side, her own panic rising as she watches as the other swimmers push and splash at the others as they try and get back to the shore as quickly as possible. As he searches for Wally, he spots one of the kids being pushed down from one of the frightened teenagers – too deep in their panic to realize that they were pushing at a child.

At this distance, Will couldn’t tell who the child was aside from it was a younger boy, and he watches as the kid is pushed down and covered by a wave.

Without thinking, he jumps into the water, the others passing by him as he dives in. Hoping it wasn’t Wally, he kicks further until he reaches where the waves are the worst. Opening his eyes underneath the salt water, letting them burn as they adjust he spots the kid trying to find his way back up to the surface but is continually pushed back with the wave.

Will swims towards him, grabbing him and kicks himself back up to the surface. The commotion has died out now, with the onlookers staring at Will as he brings the boy back onto the sand. Exhausted, he nearly drops the kid onto the ground – it isn’t Wally. Briefly he finds himself relieved, he doesn’t know the kid and he assumes that he belongs to one of the tourists.

“I was just joking...I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this...” Will hears one of the teenagers in the crowd say. He pays no mind to that, the police will handle that end, John would have a field day with the false alarm.

Below him, the kid spits out water and takes in a deep breathe. Will helps him up as the parents push through the crowd – indeed tourists – and they gratefully thank him, wrapping their child up in a towel as they escort him to sit down away.

All the betas leave the commotion, following the kid to make sure he’s okay. Cooing after the child who nearly lost his life from a panicked swimmer.

But the alpha stands there, John’s nostrils flaring as they scent the unmated omega before him. When Will meets his eyes, he realizes that the scent neutralizers had washed away when he jumped into the ocean.

“What?” Molly breaks the silence as the omega and alpha stare at each other. She takes notice of the awkward staring contest growing between them, “the hell’s going on?”

Catherine was, for the moment caught up in the drama of the child almost drowning that she pulled away from them at first. But as she notices that her husband hasn’t joined her, Catherine wonders back to where John is. As she joins them, she stills when she approaches her husband and scents another omega in their midst. Coming from Will. Confused, she asks: “Will? Why do you smell like that?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caught between a rock and a hard place, Hannibal believes its time to cut the omega loose and jump bodies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooooo, sorry about the hiatus between school and work i havent had time to write the update. but i finally did get a couple days off four fourth of july, but was putting off editing...but hey. i got another day off and it's up now
> 
> thank you for your patience and dealing with my little temper tantrum when i took this fic down haha. i hope this update is worthwhile for the few people who enjoy this fic. :)

A fist is thrown into Will’s face before he or Hannibal realized that the alpha had moved. Will quickly gathers himself as he stares at the alpha, wondering how someone that considered Will to be a friend could stare back at him with so much hatred. As if Will was lesser than human.

Hannibal could feel the different range of emotions spilling over the wall Will had so-carefully constructed, but was quickly deteriorating with every moment that Will was being pushed and prodded. The man hadn’t eaten well, forgoing Hannibal’s advice to find suitable human meat and instead resigned himself to starvation. For Will, in his hunger and the wendigo blood now coursing through his veins, John quickly became a meal as he stares the alpha down. Something primal working through him as he looses his restraint, he could feel nothing but the deep want to kill the unworthy alpha and consume him.

Both Molly and Catharine stand in shock as Will pushes forward taking the alpha down as he punches John in the face. His hunger rages through him as the waves roll over them both as Will bares his teeth at the alpha thrashing underneath him. Will’s vision narrows, his hands wrapping around the alphas throat as water splashes around them both. John gasps out in pain, the lack of air from both Will’s tightening grip and the sea water that crashes over them in a small foaming wave. The sand tugging underneath his body’s weight as the ocean pulls back in, he gasps for breath but Will’s grip only grows tighter.

The fight quickly draws the attention away from the almost-drowned boy, the residents of the small beach town and the several off duty officers pull away to watch with curiosity as someone flails around in the water. Wally watches with wide eyes as it slowly dawns on him that its his step-father strangling and drowning a man underneath him.

With his vision slowly slipping away, John stares up at Will: the omega with his eyes a completely blank white, bared teeth sharp and inhuman before the man nearly passes out from the lack of oxygen.

“Will!” Molly grabs Will by the shoulder and pulls him back. Catharine is quick to sit up next to her mated husband, pulling him up and out of the crashing waves, her hands all over him in worry as he gasps for air.

Will’s eyes and teeth quickly return to normal as he turns around and faces his wife, his teeth still bared, a growl at the interruption escapes him. Molly steps back in shock, “the hell is going on?”

Before Will can reply, he’s tackled to the ground by John’s co-workers, the handcuffs around his wrists and his chest hitting the sandy beach.

Still sitting on the ground, John watches as Will is arrested, pulled away from the beach as his wife stands there. “You knew about this?” he asks, his voice gravely from being choked.

Torn between wanting to follow Will being escorted up the beach path and needing to know what the hell just  _happened_ , she spins around, “knew about  _what_? The fuck is happening?”

Catherine frowns, her arms resting on her alpha mate, “your husband is an omega, Molly. You didn’t know?”

“Fucking freak of nature attacked me.”

Molly’s mouth gapes open, “you fucking punched him first! Are you guys out of your mind?” She turns around then, no longer paying attention to the couple as she storms towards her child. She grabs Wally by the wrist, “we’re going to the station with Will.”

“Is this about Will’s weird smell? Catharine smells just like him,” Wally adds on as his mother tightens her grip around him wrist, his beach shirt being shoved into his arms as Molly grabs her bag.

She doesn't reply, doesn't know  _what_  to reply. To her, Will didn't smell like anything but the cheap cologne he uses.

It’s when the car door is shut and the key in the ignition is turned that Molly realizes her hands are shaking on the steering wheel, “Wally, how long has Will smelled like that?” she asks, staring at her kid in the rear view mirror.

Wally shrugs, “a week? But not all the time. He said it was the soap he was using...is it because he's like Catherine?”

Molly laughs out of sheer bafflement and confusion, "I don't know." She pulls out of the driveway and towards the police station, she grabs her cellphone from her bag.

* * *

 

“Taken down by an omega?” Freddie smirks, sitting across John with a cool look on her face. Vindication written all over her.

John grabs the VHS recording of the security camera and plops it on the desk, “you can still press charges.”

Freddie leans back, nonchalant, “I’m good.”

“He broke your camera. And you were right, the fucker is an omega.”

“You got him on assaulting an officer charge, that’s a much juicier story than him breaking my camera in a Publix. I couldn't publish the omega story because I didn't have evidence to back that up but hell, now I got a whole police department on my side.”

John laughs, strained and gruff, "we're a small town police department. Not a lot of 'whole' there when its five officers and a secretary on a  _busy_  day."

The female alpha across from his office just shrugs, "the readers trust sources from police. FBI. Trust me, I don't need to press charges for a camera I didn't really care for in the first place when I got this on my lap."

* * *

 

“I don’t want to talk to your right now,” Will says blankly, staring at the walls that were previously a dull and chipped white in the reality of the police station. Here in Hannibal’s mind palace, they are adorned with fancy wallpaper and paintings that cost more than Molly’s inherited beach home.

Hannibal settles into the chair across from them, the crappy metal table replaced with a waxed wooden one as Hannibal places his hands onto the table, “we’re in quite the situation.”

Will slowly looks over to him, irritation all over his face, “and who’s fault is that.”

“Yours. You could have let the child drown if you really cared about not being found out.”

“You could have let me take suppressants. That I spent a good amount of money on.”

The wendigo alpha hums, not taking his eyes off the grumpy omega who’s hands even in this plane of reality were still tied together with handcuffs, “I’m in your body and I’d rather not go to prison.”

“Prison food not good enough for you?” Will sneers, turning his attention back to the wall instead of the annoying fuck that ruined his life.

“No, there is enough abundance of food there. I’m more concerned about the fact that I will not have the freedom of going where I please.”

Will’s eyes widen when it dawns on him that Hannibal is talking about prisoners when referring to prison food, and he turns to stare at him, “then what the fuck do you want me to do? Because of you my friend attacked me, arrested me, and then you want to blame me? For your actions? Fuck you, Hannibal.”

“I didn’t force you to strangle a man.”

“He attacked me, I reacted on instinct.”

Hannibal tilts his head, “you reacted on an empty stomach. You were hungry because you didn’t do as I instructed.”

“You wanted me to kill an innocent doctor.”

Hannibal smiles, toothy and large, “and you wanted to kill that cop.”

Frustrated, talking in circles, Will groans, “I’m not playing this blame game anymore. Get me the fuck out of this situation if you don’t want to spend the next fuckin’ decade in prison.”

Hannibal pulls out the knife that was plunged into the omega’s chest, the one from the night of the sacrifice and had disappeared into the black darkness along with the gun and cellphone. Will blinks, “the hell are you going to do with that?”

The alpha stands up, circling around the table as he nears the omega. Hannibal pulls Will’s neck back and places the blade on his neck, “you die here, I jump bodies to the next closet human. You were fun for a while, Will but-“

“Fuck you,” the omega snarls, trying to pull away from Hannibal’s grasp.

The grip in his hair only tightens as Hannibal preps the knife at his throat. Will bares his teeth, pulling backwards once more as he tilts the chair off balance.

Will falls to the ground, staring at the dirty linoleum floor of the small little police station. Before him are a couple of police officer boots and a pair of shiny dress shoes. Breathing heavily, he looks up and into the face of Jack Crawford. “Help him back up,” Jack orders. The police officers who were on the beach with him only hours ago, were now in their uniforms and helping Will back up into the chair. They adjust him so that he’s sitting at the table once more. He can’t help but notice that he’s the only one undressed for such an occasion, and wasn’t even given a t-shirt as he sits there in his now dry beach shorts.

The police officers leave then, as Jack settles into the chair in the tiny closed off office that they used for interviewing suspects – not that they needed it a whole lot being a small town that dealt more with traffic and beach violations than anything else. He looks Will over, his arms cross, a black eye and a split lip. A small nick on his neck that hasn’t yet clotted. The scent of him, an unmated omega, filled the room to the point – making Jack wonder how in the world Will ever managed to pull disguising himself off as a beta.

“I took suppressants.” Will replies, already registering that look on Jack’s face with just a brief glance, “since I presented as a kid.”

“Molly asked me to come.” He takes in the omega before him, he doesn’t look as refreshed as he did all those weeks ago when Jack first came down to Sugar Loaf. While his tan was still there, Will looked paler, the bags under his eyes more prominent.

“She come with you?”

Jack nods, “she’s understandably confused. Like we all are.” The omega before him adjusts his hands in the cuffs, “I found out through an article written by Freddie Lounds. Thought it was garbage click-bait until Molly called.” He sighs, “I understand why you hid as a beta, Will, I do, but you’ll have to understand that the FBI isn’t too keen on having you return to the field given that you lied on-.”

Will scoffs, turning his attention from the boxes of random crap the officers shoved into the tiny office to Jack, “I’m not returning.”

“You don’t return with me, you’ll be stuck on a charge of assaulting an officer and forging fake government documentations.”

Seething, “they’re not fake.”

“Regardless, they’ve got you on those charges. You come with me I can pull some strings and get you out of Florida.”

Initially the wendigo was excited to see Will follow his natural urges, delighted at watching Will’s hands wrap around the alpha’s neck and strangle him – but as clarity from the heat of the moment surfaced it dawned on them both that they were potentially looking at years in prison.

Going with Jack was the only option at this point, “Molly know this?”

Jack shakes his head, “wanted to run it by you first.”

“Fine. Do it.” Will replies, averting his eyes back to the messy pile of boxes. His arms still folded, hands still clasped together in the cuffs, and tense.

The alpha stands up and smooths down his jacket, looking down at the omega, “I’ll let Molly know.”

Will’s wife sits outside on the porch steps of the police building, watching her son throw rocks down the road. Jack stands next to her for a brief moment, watching with her, and then sits down. “I can get him out of here.”

Molly doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink. Her focus still on Wally throwing rocks.

Jack continues: “it will involve extraditing him, Freddie might run with a few stories about how he’s being arrested for killing Sheen. It’s merely pulling strings, Molly. He will not be in any sort of legal trouble once I get him back to Virginia.”

There’s an awkward silence between them, Jack almost standing up when Molly finally says: “did he not trust me?”

Jack blinks, “I’m sorry?”

“We’ve been married for two years now, he’s been hiding the fact that he’s an omega to me for that long.”

“He’s been hiding who he is for much longer than that.” Molly finally turns and looks at Jack. Her eyes are red and puffy, “he told me he’s been taking them since he presented. I’m assuming since he was about 12.”

“I know male omegas aren’t treated kindly but…god,” she learns back, her eyes moving back and forth as she stares at the sky, “Wally could smell him.”

“It’s a wonder he could hide it, it was rather strong.”

She laughs, strained and void of any humor, “and how do you feel? About all this? Finding out your prized FBI special agent is an omega?”

“You called me for a reason, Molly.” Molly turns to stare at him, her jaw tense as Jack continues, “you knew I’d want him back at any cost because he’s an asset to me.”

“He’s a tool for you.”

“He was. When I was stupid and foolish and used Will to his breaking point. I don’t care that he’s an omega because the man is an asset, yes, but he’s also my friend. And I abused that. It’s time I help instead.”

Molly blinks, “will I be able to talk to him soon? I need him to know I’m not angry at him for lying…just. I’m just confused.”

“I’ll let you know when you can see him as soon as I get the clearance to extradite him to Virginia.”

“Thank you.”

Jack smiles, and teasingly replies, “now, if you’ll excuse me. I was on vacation with my wife when you so rudely interrupted me.” Molly laughs at him, her first sincere laugh since Jack arrived here. “I’ll let you know, Molly. In the meantime, I suggest you pack what you need if you’d like to stay with Will he probably won’t be able to come back to Florida for a while.”

Her smile fades as she nods. She watches as Jack disappears into his rental car, Wally still in his swim trunks and t-shirt.

* * *

 

With Wally sent to his room, Molly pulls out Will’s stash of whiskey and pours herself a glass. She throws it back, wincing at the burn of the strong alcohol, and pours another. There is a knock on the door before Molly could change out of her own bathing suit, and opens it.

“Wanted to see how you’re doing,” Catherine replies, she’s cleaned up and perfect compared to the raggedness that Molly both feels and looks like. The female omega’s eyes fall on the whiskey glass in Molly’s hand, and she awkwardly smiles, “this must be so rough for you.”

“I’ll get through it,” Molly replies, placing the glass down as she allows Catherine into her home. “I got through my first husband dying on me. I’ll get through this.”

“I suppose getting a divorce is better than dealing with death,” Catherine sits down, folding her legs.

Molly laughs, “divorce? We’re not getting a divorce…it hasn’t even been a day and there’s already rumors…” she grabs her whiskey and sips on it. Living in a small town, word must travel fast, she thinks.

“Oh, no one was spreading 'round rumors,” Catherine replies, “I just assumed. Him being an omega and all, it’s a wonder he was able to hide it given their proclivities.”

“Their proclivities?” Her eyes narrow, the hollowness in her stomach quickly being replaced with nausea as Molly can see where this conversation is heading.

Catherine nods, “well, male omegas are quite the – and pardon my language but – you know…whores."

“My husband is not a ‘whore’.”

“You didn’t know he was a male omega, Molly. He could have been doing god knows what in those little trips of his to Miami.”

Molly stiffens, “how did you know-“

“I read all about it in Freddie Lounds’ article.”

“She has an article up already? For fucks sake…” Molly replies, disbelief as she grabs her cellphone and opens Google search.

Catherine continues to barrel through their conversation as Molly reads the article posted about Will’s arrest, “Miami is known for male omegas to congregate there, sell themselves.” Molly doesn’t listen as she rattles on, reading the article as Freddie describes her encounter with him in the Publix omega hygiene section on the same day that she remembers Will going out to go pick up groceries.

“They’re not like normal omegas, female ones, you know? They’re just incredibly promis-“

“Get the fuck out of my house,” Molly cuts off, finally pulling her attention away from the phone.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said.”

Catherine huffs and stands up, adjusting her dress and hair as she regards the beta before her, “I suggest you ditch Will. The little whore will eventually find an alpha, they can’t settle for betas. Not enough for them.”

Molly throws the glass of whiskey at the wall right by her head, “out of my fucking house.”

The omega smiles calmly and turns around, stepping over the broken glass and shutting the door behind her with a grace that Molly simply didn’t have.

She groans as he flops onto her couch, tired from the entire day. Missing her husband. Still in her fucking bikini. Molly closes her eyes, pressing the palms of her hand against them, wishing that she could at least talk to Will. 


	9. No Longer Updating

Hey, I'm sorry to let everyone know that I have lost interest in the Hannibal fandom. It was a lot of fun while I was in it but we all move on from things we used to love and it was time for me to loose interest in Hannibal (if season 4 ever comes I'll be first in line though). 

If anyone is interested in taking the idea from this you can contact me on tumblr (lucifersass) if you wish to know the plot points I had in mind and continue to write it (I mean, it is fanfiction, go nuts).

This goes for all my other unfinished Hannibal fics, which is honestly only one which was Year of the Wendigo. I'm going to leave them up, but may eventually be orphaned. 


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